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THE     DOCTOR'S 
RECREATION    SERIES 


CHARLES   WELLS    MOULTON 

General  Editor 


VOLUME      ONE 


M»^ii«MHMIK<aMf» 


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DOCTOR'S 
£  HOUR 


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THE    PRIDE    OF    THE\FAMI 


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The    DOCTOR'S 
LEISURE  HOUR 


wmim^LrM. 


FACTS  AND  FANCIES 
OF  INTEREST  TO  THE 
DOCTOR  AND  HIS 
PATIENT 


Cbarles  TRneUd  nDoulton 


CBNBKAL  EDITOR 


ARRANGED   BY 


porter  DAVlcf ,  A.S). 


1904 

The  SAALFIELD  PUBLISHING 

CO. 

Chicago 

AKRON,  0.     New  York 

Copyright,   1904, 

BY 

THE    SAALFIELD    PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


WERNER     COMPANY 
Akron,  O. 


TABLE  OF   CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The  Student 13 

The  Professor 24 

The  Young  Doctor 38 

The  Diagnosis 52 

The  Disease 60 

The  Patient 72 

The  Prescription 88 

The  Remedy no 

The  Desperate  Cage 123 

The  Operation 129 

The  Inquest 135 

S?        General  Practice 143 

f^        Some  Famous  Doctors 163 

tM 

q:        The  Country  Doctor 179 

*        The  Doctor's  Wife 208 

The  Doctor's  Horse       .......  210 

Madame  la  Docteur 230 

S        The  Microbe 225 

Christian  Science 231 

The  Quack 234 

The  Oculist           , 260 

The  Dentist      .         , 267 

The  Chemist 274 

■^        Our  Friend  the  Apothecary 276 

^        The  Family 286 

5S        At  the  Beginning 303 

i        Until  the  Doctor  Comes 316 

u.        The  Young  Hopeful         .......  318 

g        The  Father 323 

The  Wife 326 

The  Fee 33° 

In  the  Doctor's  Waiting-Room 339 

Among  Ourselves 342 

(vii) 


434343 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PACK 

The  Pride  of  the  Family Frontispiece 

A  Bribe ^20 

At  the  Dentist's 270 

An  Irish  Patient 320 


THE   PREFACE 


"^HE  preface  to  a  book,  like  a  diagnosis  of  a 
disease,  is  but  introductory  to  the  treat- 
ment. This  volume  is  the  product  of 
a  doctor's  leisure  hour,  who  has  been 
engaged  in  general  practice  for  nearly  a 
quarter-century,  beginning  as  the  student, 
graduating  as  the  young  doctor,  and  is 
at  present  the  professor  himself. 

By  the  judicious  use  of  wit  and  humor,  I  have  always 
found  the  remedy  better  than  the  disease,  and  should 
consider  it  a  desperate  case  indeed  where  the  patient 
was  not  benefited  by  perusing  the  following  pages,— 
in  other  words  I  should  deem  the  gentle  reader  a  fit 
subject  for  an  inquest,  when  it  required  an  operation  in 
order  that  the  point  of  any  joke  contained  herein  might 
be  appreciated.  In  this  I  am  sure  the  famous  doctor 
as  well  as  the  country  doctor  will  agree,  not  to  mention 
the  doctor's  wife. 

Having  called  the  reader's  attention  to  several  de- 
partments selected  from  the  Table  of  Contents,  I  would 
impress  upon  his  especial  attention  the  character  of 
the  articles  themselves.  They  are  by  no  means  con- 
fined to  the  funny  side  of  physic,  but  include  many 
pages  of  weighty  and  instructive  matter. 

Perhaps  some  things  have  been  said  that  will  dis- 
please the  quack,  and  that  other  specie  of  quackery, 
the  believer   in   Christian    Science;  but   our  friend  the 

apothecary,  the    oculist,  the    dentist,  the   chemist,  and 

(xi) 


xii  THE    PREFACE 

Madame  la  Docteur  will  find  nothing  but  what  has  been 
selected  with  a  sympathetic  fellow-feeling. 

What  is  to  be  said  to  the  family,  is  appropriately 
left  to  the  family  physician.  In  that  capacity  it  has 
been  my  duty  to  attend  the  young-hopeful,  the  father 
and  the  wife,  and  serve  at  the  beginning  of  many  joy- 
ful events. 

As  the  workman  is  worthy  of  his  hire,  the  physician 

is  worthy  of  his  fee.     To  all  my  fellow  practitioners  I 

extend  a  cordial   invitation   to   spend  a  leisure  hour  in 

my   waiting-room,    that   we   may  talk   it    over   among 

ourselves. 

Porter  Davies,  M.  D. 


For  copyright  and  other  privileges  the  editor  returns  thanks 
to  the  publishers  of  «  Life,»  «  Puck,»  «  Judge, »  and  «  Punch, »  and 
to  the  Century  Company ;  Charles  Scribner's  Sons ;  Dodd,  Mead 
and  Company ;  Harper  and  Brothers ;  S.  S.  McClure  Company ; 
Curtis  Publishing  Company;  Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell;  John 
Kendrick  Bangs ;  Opie  Read ;  Tom  Masson ;  Jerome  K.  Jerome ; 
Edwin  L.  Sabin ;  Alice  Morse  Earle ;  Rev.  John  Watson ;  Mary 
E.  Wilkins ;  Mackenzie  Bell ;  Dr.  Andrew  H,  Smith,  and  Ruth 
McEnery  Smith. 


THE   STUDENT 

Ignorance  is  the  wet-nurse  of  prejudice. 


MR.   MUFF'S   INTRODUCTORY    DISCOURSE 
TO    THE    MEDICAL    STUDENTS 

T  WILL   be    perfectly   useless   to   give 
any   minute    report    of  the  oration 
delivered    by    Dr.    Wurzel     to    his 
pupils,  because  all  introductory  lec- 
tures, at  whatever  school  they  may 
be  given,    always  end   in  the  same 
thing,  viz.y  persuading  as   many  students  to   enter 
to   the    classes    as    can   be    talked   over.      He   told 
them  that  they  had  made  choice  of  a  very  harass- 
ing   profession,    in     which    the    pleasure     derived 
from  alleviating  the  sufferings  of  their  fellow-crea- 
tures  would   be   far   beyond   any  pecuniary  recom- 
pense they  might  expect,  which  of  course  he  mentally 
agreed   in,  as  well  as  in   the  following  confession, 
that  he  and  his  colleagues,  who  formed  the  teachers 
of   the   school,   were   actuated   solely  by  a  love   of 
their  noble  calling,  and  no   affection  for  common- 
place coin.     Moreover,  he  indulged  his  hearers  with 
an  history  of  all  the  eminent  medical  men  down  to 
the  present  time,  from  the   very  celebrated   people 
who  never  existed  except  in  musuem  portraits  and 
Lempriere's  Dictionary.     And  having  said   all  this, 
and  a  great  deal   more  which  our  reporter  cannot 
recollect,  inasmuch  as  he  had  been  fast  asleep  for 
the  last  half  hour,  the  worthy  professor  concluded 
as  the   clock  of  the  hospital   struck  three,    to  the 
great  relief  of  his   audience.     Of  course  there  was 

(13) 


14  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

vdol,ejit  applause,,  although,  generally  speaking,  med- 
ical''Studeits- a'rfe'^liiet  young  men,  averse  to  any- 
.thJng:lik^K6i^e;  arid^hen  a  violent  rush  took  place 
tb' thfe  ■di'ssebfiit^-fooi'ri. 

When  they  had  collected  therein,  Mr.  Muff  sent 
Randall  round  with  the  top  of  an  earthenware  jar, 
to  collect  filthy  lucre  for  half-and-half;  and  then, 
having  publicly  announced  his  intention  of  saying 
a  few  words  to  the  new  students,  he  commenced  as 
follows :  — 

«  Gentlemen ! » 

*  Don't  call  names,*  interrupted  Manhug. 

*  Order!*  bawled  out  Mr.  Rapp,  thumping  the 
table  with  a  stick,  which  he  snatched  from  a  new 
man  standing  near  him,  until  a  glass  preparation- jar 
danced  off  upon  the  ground  and  broke  to  pieces, 
when  it  was  immediately  concealed  in  the  flue  of 
the  fireplace.     *  Order!  and  hear  Mr.  Muff.* 

*  Gentlemen,  *  continued  our  friend,  by  no  means 
disconcerted,  ^*  you  have  heard  a  very  vivacious  dis- 
course from  Dr.  Wurzel,  in  which  he  told  you  all 
he  thought  necessary  for  you  to  attend  to,  in  your 
wish  to  become  leading  members  of  the  agreeable 
and  not-by-any-means-over-done-by-numbers  profes- 
sion you  have  decided  upon  choosing.  Now,  I  have 
to  beg  you  will  forget  everything  he  said,  and  listen 
to  me;  for  I  am  about  to  tell  you  what  will  be  of 
a  great  deal  of  use  to  you  in  your  future  career. 
Jack  Randall,  be  good  enough  to  poke  the  fire,  put 
on  the  leg  of  a  stool  to  make  a  cheerful  blaze,  and 
pass  the  fermented.* 

These  orders  being  obeyed,  Mr.  Muff  continued. 

"The  knowledge  you  will  gain,  gentlemen,  dur- 
ing your  studies,  will  be  useful,  inasmuch  as  it  will 
enable  you  to  pass  the  hall  and  college;  but  these 
points  once  achieved,  you  will  be  anxious  to  forget 
all  you  have  learned  as  soon  as  you  can.  Your 
grand  study  must  then  be  human  nature  and  the 
habits  of  society.     Be   assured   that   at   all   times   a 


THE   STUDENT  1$ 

ready  tact  and  a  good  address  will  bear  down  all 
the  opposition  that  can  ever  be  offered  in  the  shape 
of  professional  knowledge  and  hardly-earned  expe- 
rience. You  will  do  well  to  take  a  few  private 
lessons  of  the  nearest  undertaker  in  the  necessary 
art  of  fixing  your  looks  and  assuming  a  grave  de- 
meanour; and  your  spare  half-hours  may  be  well 
passed  in  learning  the  most  abstruse  names  of  the 
most  uncommon  diseases;  by  the  display  of  which 
you  will  flabbergaster  other  practitioners  whom  you 
may  be,  from  time  to  time,  called  upon  to  meet 
in  consultation.  Leave  vulgar  common-place  affairs, 
like  measles,  whooping-cough,  croup,  and  colic,  to 
monthly  nurses  and  small  apothecaries;  but  when 
you  have  once  written  a  treatise  on  the  exhibition 
and  beneficial  effects  of  Sesquicarburet  of  Sawdust 
in  the  early  stages  of  Megalanthropogenesia,  be  as- 
sured your  fame  will  soon  extend.  Gentlemen,  I 
beg  a  moment's  pause  in  order  that  I  may  indulge 
in  a  modest  drain  of  the  commingled,  to  wash  down 
that  last  hard  word.>* 

The  example  set  by  the  lecturer  was  speedily 
followed  by  his  hearers,  and  when  he  had  recovered 
his  breath,  after  a  protracted  deglutition,  Mr.  Muff 
went  on  again. 

«  You  will  find  depreciation  of  brother  practition- 
ers of  immense  service,  but  this  must  be  carefully 
done,  to  avoid  ever  being  found  out.  When  you 
are  shown  their  prescriptions,  shake  your  head,  and 
order  something  else;  which  take  care  to  make  of 
a  different  colour  and  taste.  In  the  great  world, 
the  term  making  one's  fortune,  implies  ruining 
somebody  else's;  and  as  we  all  attain  eminence  by 
clambering  over  one  another's  shoulders,  do  all  you 
can  to  push  down  those  above  you  for  stepping- 
stones.  An  illustration  of  this  theory  may  be  seen 
in  the  Chinese  collection  at  Hyde-Park-Corner,  only 
it  is  half-a-crown  to  go  in.  Wait  until  it  comes  to 
a  shilling,    and  then   imbibe   the   philosophy  there 


1 6  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

taught.  There  is  a  picture  of  a  duck-boat,  and  we 
are  told  that  the  ducks  are  called  in  every  night 
in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time,  hustling  over 
one  another  like  the  pittites  of  a  theatre  on  grand 
nights.  This  race  for  superiority  is  rendered  thus 
animating,  because  the  last  bird  who  goes  in  is  al- 
ways beaten  by  the  owner.  My  beloved  bricks, 
recollect  that  the  world  is  a  large  poultry-boat,  and 
be  careful,  even  to  cracking  your  fibres  and  heart- 
strings with  exertion,  never  to  be  the  last  duck! 
Should  this  happen,  the  beating  will  probably  maim 
you,  and  you  will  never  be  able  to  recover  your 
lost  position.     .     .     . 

"  Having  given  you  some  wholesome  advice  upon 
various  portions  of  the  studies  you  have  come  up 
here  to  pursue,  or  which  your  friends  think  you 
have  —  being  all  the  same  thing,  provided  they 
have  furnished  you  with  the  money  —  I  will  now 
offer  a  few  remarks  upon  your  education,  and  I  am 
sure  you  will  feel  wonderfully  better  after  them. 

*  Private  lessons  in  practical  chemistry  you  will 
find  very  advantageous,  if  they  only  enable  you  to 
watch  the  evaporation  of  nothing  from  watch-glasses 
on  hot  sand,  or  discover  arsenic  in  stomachs  where 
it  is  not.  I  had  a  course  of  private  instruction  my- 
self; when  it  was  finished,  I  could  blow  a  glass 
jug  almost  as  well  as  the  man  at  the  Adelaide 
Gallery,  and  poison  a  sparrow  with  chlorine  gas  in 
a  manner  marvellous  to  behold.  All  this  must  be 
learned  to  enable  you  to  pass;  but  when  that  tri- 
umph is  achieved,  burn  your  notes,  sell  your  books, 
and  buy  a  grave  morning-gown;  and  a  brass  door- 
plate;  furnish  your  surgery  at  the  expense  of  five 
pounds,  and  have  put  up  a  night-bell  that  can  be 
heard  all  over  the  street ;  get  some  convivial  friend, 
whose  habits  lead  him  to  be  about  at  unreasonable 
hours,  to  give  it  occasionally  a  good  pull.  If  they 
sold  potted  assurance  as  they  do  shrimps  and  bloat- 
ers, you  would  do  well  to  lay  in  a  good  stock:  but 


THE  STUDENT 


17 


as  it  is  an  article  usually  manufactured  at  home, 
take  a  few  lessons  in  getting  it  up,  from  the  lead- 
ing members  of  your  profession,  and  become  great, 
even  among  the  Tritons.  But  even  then  do  not 
relax  in  your  endeavours  to  insure  a  good  practice; 
but  recollect,  it  is  far  more  difficult  to  keep  a  posi- 
tion than  to  attain  one. 

*  Whether  you  dissect  or  not,  always  tell  your 
friends  in  the  country  that  you  do ;  and  then,  when 
the  tin  runs  short,  you  can  often  draw  upon  them 
for  the  price  of  an  extremity,  varying  it  as  occasion 
may  require.  You  will  not  find  that  minute  knowl- 
edge of  anatomy  which  you  are  expected  to  acquire 
of  any  use  to  you.  Great  accidents  in  London,  al- 
ways go  to  the  hospitals;  and  in  the  country,  are 
always  sent  up  to  London. 

"Above  all,  never  get  off  your  beer.  The  archives 
of  Apothecaries'  Hall  do  not  present  one  instance 
of  a  man  being  rejected  who  stood  a  pot  of  half- 
and-half  when  he  was  asked.  And,  in  commencing 
life,  do  not  be  discouraged;  for  starting  a  practice 
is  very  like  kindling  a  fire  in  a  Dr.  Arnott's  stove 
—  the  chief  difficulty  is  to  begin.  And,  with  all  the 
assurance  I  wish  you  to  possess,  do  not  be  too 
anxious  to  be  thought  brilliant.  Dulness  and  wealth, 
poverty  and  genius,  are  each  to  each  synonymous. 
No  man  ever  yet  rode  in  his  carriage  who  wrote  a 
poem  for  his  livlihood ;  and  we  may  estimate  talents 
of  intellect  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  talents  of  gold; 
namely,  that  whichever  way  you  take  them,  as  one 
predominates,  the  other  sinks. 

«In  conclusion,  I  beg  to  drink  all  your  good 
healths,  and  the  perpetual  indisposition  of  your 
patients  —  if  ever  you  get  any.* 

Medical  Student — They  don't  bleed  people  now- 
adays as  they  did  forty  years  ago,  do  they,  pro- 
fessor? 

Professor  —  Not  with  the  lancet. 

D.L.H. — 2 


aS  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 


THE    ARTICULATION 

ENARTHROSis,  bone  to  bone, 
Femur,   acetabulum ; 
Ginglymus,  the  hinge  I  see 
Forwards,  backwards  swings  the  knee. 
Arthrodia,  near  the  end. 
Glide  along  the  foot  and  hand; 
Synchondrosis,  we  allege, 
Calls  for  costal  cartilage; 
Syndesmosis  —  ligament. 
Binding  bone  to  bone  is  meant. 
Syssarcosis  —  lower  jaw. 
Flesh  from  ribs  to  scapula. 
Suture,  a  stitch  withal. 
Coronal,  lambdoid,  sagittal, 
Harmonia  —  Tipperary 
Rhymes  with  supramaxillary. 
Schindylesis  —  plowing  done  — 
Vomer  in  the  sphenoid  bone. 
Gomphosis  sets  all  things  right. 
Tooth  in  socket  pretty  tight. 

—  Dr.  James  L.  Little. 


QUESTIONS    FOR    MEDICAL    STUDENTS 

Not  to  be  found  in  their  note-books. 

TlAj^HAT  is  the  difference  between  the  course  of 
^\^  the  femoral  artery  and  the  second  course  of 
a  civic  dinner? 

Is  the  triceps  muscle  a  lineal  descendant  of  Cha- 
ron's watch-dog? 

Which  is  the  more  puzzling  to  Welsh  students, 
the  labyrinth  of  the  ear,  or  the  Cretan  labyrinth 
of  Daedalus? 

What  is  the  area  of  the  vestibule  of  the  laby- 
rinth? and  is  it  paved  with  Roman  tile  or  common 
brick? 


THE  STUDENT  19 

Is  the  fenestra  ovalis,  or  oval  window,  of  the 
labyrinth  framed  and  glazed,  or  is  it  not? 

Judging  from  its  construction,  is  it  possible  to 
break  your  neck  by  falling  down  the  ^*  Scala  Ves- 
tibuli,'^  or  staircase  of  the  vestibule? 

What  is  the  relation  of  the  aquaeductus  vestibuli 
to  the  semicircular  canals?  Who  are  the  directors 
of  the  latter?  Price  of  shares  in  ditto?  What 
sized  craft  can  they  float?  Were  they  formed  on 
the  plan  of  the  Styx?  How  do  they  stand  affected 
with  regard  to  railroads?  And  what  will  be  the 
effect  upon  them  of  Mr.  Henson's  Flying  Machine? 

Are  the  sacs  in  the  vestibule  empty  coal-sacks 
left  there  by  the  canal  bargemen?  Or  are  they, 
as  Breschet  says,  merely  dust  bags,  containing 
otoconite  or  sweepings  of  the  labyrinth? 

Whether  would  it  be  more  repugnant  to  your  in- 
clinations, to  forego  the  pleasures  of  porter  for  a 
week,  or  in  your  examination  at  the  college  to  be 
captured  on  the  great  unipedal  saltation  (/.  e.  caught 
on  the  grand  hop)  by  a  trap  question    in  anatomy? 


THE    MEDICAL    STUDENT'S    VALENTINE 

SON  of  the  scalpel!  from  whatever  class 
You  grind  instruction  just  enough  to  pass 
St.  George's,  Guy's,  North  London,  or  King's  College — 
Thirsting  alike  for  half-and-half  and  knowledge  — 
Thou  who  must  know  so  well  (all  jibes  apart). 
The  true  internal  structure  of  the  heart  — 
This  heart  —  which  you  ^<  a  hollow  muscle  **  call, 
I  offer  thee  —  aorta,  valves,  and  all. 

Though  to  cheap  hats  and  boots  thy  funds  incline, 
And  light  rough  Chesterfields  at  one  pound  nine; 
Though  on  the  virtues  of  all  plants  thou'rt  dumb 
Save  the  Nicotiana   Tabacum 
{Pentandria  Digynia  !  —  Lindley  —  mum) ! 
Though  thou  eschewest  the  hospital's  dull  gloom, 
Except  to  chat  in  the  house-surgeon's  room, 


0  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

And  practically  practise,  in  addition, 

The  «  Physiology  of  Deglutition. » 

Yet  much  I  love  thee,  and  devoutly  swear. 

With  lips  that  move  controll'd  by  «the  fifth  pair,» 

That  I  will  ner'er  know  peace  until  our  hands 

Shall  form  a  «  ganglion »  with  Hymen's  bands. 

Then  haste,  my  love,  and  let  me  call  thee  mine, 
Precious  and  dear  as  sulphate  of  quinine, 
Sparkling  and  bright  as  antimonial  wine. 
Sharp  as  the  angles  of  a  new  trephine. 
My  reckless,  noisy,  fearnought  Valentine! 


FOR   YE    STUDENT   MEM 

The  Student's  Alphabet 

^H,  A  was  an  artery,  filled  with  injection; 

And  B  was  a  brick,  never  caught  at  dissection. 
C  were  some  chemicals,  lithium  and  borax; 
D  played  the  deuce  with  the  bones  of  the  thorax. 

CHORUS 

{Taken  in  short-hand  with  minute  accuracy.^ 

Fol  de  rol  lol, 
Fol  de  rol  lay, 
Fol  de  rol,  tol  de  rol,  tol  de  rol,  lay. 

E  was  an  embryo  in  a  glass  case; 
And  F  a  foramen  that  pierced  the  skull's  base, 
G  was  a  grinder,  who  sharpen'd  the  tools; 
And  H  means  the  half-and-half  drunk  at  the  schools. 
Fol  de  rol  lol,  etc. 

I  was  some  iodine,  made  of  sea- weed; 
J  was  a  jolly  cock,  not  used  to  read. 
K  was  some  kreosote,  much  over-rated; 
And  L  was  the  lies  which  about  it  were  stated. 
Fol  de  rol  lol,  etc. 


THE   STUDENT  21 

M  was  a  muscle,  cold,  flabby,  and  red; 
And  N  was  a  nerve,  like  a  bit  of  white  thread. 
O  was  some  opium,  a  fool  chose  to  take; 
And  P  were  the  pins  used  to  keep  him  awake. 
Fol  de  rol  lol,  etc. 

Q  was  the  quacks,  who  cure  stammer  and  squint. 
R  was  raw  from  a  burn,  and  wrapped  close  in  lint. 
S  was  a  scalpel,  to  eat  bread  and  cheese ; 
And  T  was  a  tourniquet,  vessels  to  squeeze. 
Fol  de  rol  lol,  etc, 

U  was  the  unciform  bone  of  the  wrist. 

V  was  the  vein  which  a  blunt  lancet  missed. 
W  was  wax  from  a  syringe  that  flowed; 

X,  the  'xaminers,  who  may  be  blowed! 
Fol  de  rol  lol,  etc. 

Y  stands  for  you  all,  with  best  wishes  sincere; 
And  Z  for  the  zanies  who  never  touch  beer. 

So  we've  got  to  the  end,  not  forgetting  a  letter; 
And  those  who  don't  like  it  may  grind  up  a  better. 

—  London  Medical  Student. 


COLLEGE  OF  AUTO  DOCTORS 

{^Formerly  the  Chicago  Veterinary  College') 

Spring  Announcement,   i960 

THE  spring  quarter,  i960,  of  the  College  of  Auto 
Doctors  of  Chicago  will  open  March  3.  Stu- 
dents desiring  to  enter  at  this  time  must  register 
during  the  two  days  preceding.  Special  attention 
is  directed  to  the  following  features:  — 

Credit  will  be  allowed  for  work  done  in  manual 
training  schools,  machine  shops,  and  electric  plants. 

The  fee  for  entrance  does  not  cover  medical  at- 
tendance incidental  to  the  Gasoline  Department. 

Students  in  the  Gasoline  Department  must  make 


22  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

a  deposit,  to  protect  the  college  against  loss  should 
they  leave  without  notice. 

The  course  in  Monkey- Wrenches  has  been  ex- 
tended to  take  in  the  full  year. 

A  series  of  lectures  on  **The  Use  and  Abuse 
of  Profanity  as  Applied  to  Autos*  commences  with 
this  quarter. 

The  Chair  of  Balkiness:  Electro-,  Aero-,  and 
Gaso-,  has  been  enlarged,  to  meet  the  increased 
interest. 

Among  the  topics  for  discussion  during  the 
year  are:  Care  of  the  Tire;  Consumption  in  Gas 
Autos;  Braking  a  Fractious  Auto;  Insanity  in  the 
Auto;  Its  Symptoms  and  Remedy;  Hot  Boxes  and 
Other  Fevers;  Cracking  of  the  Dashboard,  etc. 

Ten  hours  a  week  of  Practical  Anatomy  and 
seven  of  Dissection  are  required  of  every  student. 
Students  are  expected  to  be  able  to  name  readily, 
and  accurately  place  each  of  the  1,609  parts  of  an 
ordinary  Auto. 

The  junk  shops  of  the  city  are  open  for  inspec- 
tion by  our  students.  Much  valuable  information 
is  to  be  gained  by  frequently  visiting  them. 

The  college  has  made  arrangements  with  the 
park  police  whereby  a  plentiful  supply  of  material 
for  clinics  is  constantly  being  turned  over  to  it. 

—  Edwin  L.  Sabin. 


HUMOROUS    INDEED 

*This  bone,**  said  the  professor  of  anatomy,  *is 
the  humerus.  Now,  then,  designate  its  proper  lo- 
cation in  the  human  body." 

**It's  located  in  the  elbow,*  said  the  first  scholar, 
*  and  is  more  commonly  known  as  the  funny  bone.  * 


*  Oh,  that  my  father  was  seized  with  a  remittent 
fever !  *  sighed  a  young  spendthrift  at  college. 


THE   STUDENT  23 


A   SKILLFUL    PHYSICIAN 

Dr.  Pulser  —  Yes,  sir,   I   have   literally  snatched 
men  from  the  grave! 

Stokes — Is  that  so;  when? 

Dr.  Pulser  —  When  I  was  a  medical  student,  sir! 


*  Will  you  please  tell  me,  doctor,  what  really 
practical  good  is  accomplished  by  vivisection?'* 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  It  cures  us  of  being  squeamish  at 
the  sight  of  blood." 


Student — "Doctor,  being  on  the  point  of  leaving 
college,  I  come  to  express  my  warmest  thanks  for 
the  pains  you  have  taken  with  me.  All  I  know  I 
owe  you.'* 

Doctor — "  Pray,  sir,  do  not  mention  such  trifles." 


Lea  (sadly) — I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  that 
boy  of  mine.  He's  been  two  years  at  the  medical 
college,    and    still    keeps    at    the   foot   of   his   class. 

Perrins  (promptly) —  Make  a  chiropodist  of  him. 


Governor  of  the  Prison  —  What  is  the  cause  of 
this  unseemly  delay  ? 

Jailer  —  That  expert  headsman  you  engaged  from 
the  medical  school  is  sterilizing  the  ax. 


A  CANDIDATE  for  medical  honors,  while  subjected 
to  a  severe  examination,  was  asked :  *^  How  would 
you  sweat  a  patient  for  the  rheumatism  ? "  He  re- 
plied: "I  would  send  him  here  to  be  examined." 


THE  PROFESSOR 


Medicine  is  to  be  praised  when  it  is  in  the  hands  of  a 
physician  that  is  learned,  grave,  wise,  stayed  and  of  experi- 
ence. —  Sir  Antonie  of  Guevara,  «  Familiar  Epistles." 


A    DOCTOR'S    CENTURY 

Read  at  the  Centennial  of  the  College  of  Physicians  of  Philadelphia,  1887. 

Doctor's  century  dead  and  gone! 
Good-night  to  those  one  hundred  years, 
To  all  the  memories  they  bear 

Of  honest  help  for  pains  or  tears; 

To  them  that  like  St.  Christopher, 

When  North  and  South  were  sad  with  graves. 
Bore  the  true  Christ  of  charity 

Across  the  battles'  crimson  waves 

Good-night  to  all  that  shining  line, 

Our  peerage, —  yes,  our  lords  of  thought; 

Their  blazonry  unspotted  lives 

Which  all  the  ways  of  honor  taught. 

A  gentler  word,  as  proud  a  thought. 
For  those  who  won  no  larger  prize 

Than  humble  days  well  lived  can  win 

From  thankful  hearts  and  weeping  eyes. 

Too  grave  my  song;  a  lighter  mood 
Shall  bid  us  scan  our  honored  roll. 

For  jolly  jesters  gay  and  good. 

Who  healed  the  flesh  and  charmed  the  soul, 

(24) 


THE   PROFESSOR  2$ 

And  took  their  punch,  and  took  the  jokes 
Would  make  our  prudish  conscience  tingle, 

Then  bore  their  devious  lanterns  home, 
And  slept,  or  heard  the  night-bell  jingle. 

Our  Century  's  dead;  God  rest  his  soul! 

Without  a  doctor  or  a  nurse, 
Without  a  **  post,*^  without  a  dose, 

He's  oflE  on  Time's  old  rattling  hearse. 

What  sad  disorder  laid  him  out 

To  all  pathologists  is  dim; 
An  intercurrent  malady, — 

Bacterium  chronos  finished  him! 

Our  new-born  century,  pert  and  proud, 

Like  some  young  doctor  fresh  from  college, 

Disturbs  our  prudent  age  with  doubts 
And  misty  might  of  foggy  knowledge. 

Ah,  but  to  come  again  and  share 

The  gains  his  calmer  days  shall   store, 

For  them  that  in  a  hundred  years 

Shall  see  our  "science  grown  to  more,'^ 

Perchance  as  ghosts  consultant  we 

May  stand  beside  some  fleshy  fellow. 

And  marvel  what  on  earth  he  means, 

When  this  new  century  's  old  and  mellow. 

Take  then  the  thought  that  wisdom  fades. 

That  knowledge  dies  of  newer  truth, 
That  only  duty  simply  done 

Walks  always  with  the  step  of  youth. 

A  grander  morning  floods  our  skies 
With  higher  aims  and  larger  light; 

Give  welcome  to  the  century  new. 
And  to  the  past  a  glad  good-night! 

—  Dr.  S.   Weir  Mitchell. 


26  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

REMINISCENCES    OF    DR.    HOLMES 

As  Professor  of  Anatomy 

^HO  is  that  young  man  who  said  bonef^'*  asked 
Dr.  Holmes  of  a  student  at  the  close  of  one 
of  his  recitations  in  anatomy  in  the  autumn  of  1864. 
Having  received  the  answer,  he  went  to  the  young 
man,  whom  he  found  Imgering  in  the  hall,  spoke 
to  him  by  name,  reminded  him  of  how  well  he  had 
known  his  father,  and  made  him  welcome  to  the 
school.  Little  did  that  beginner  then  dream  that 
he  was  to  succeed  the  distinguished  man  whose 
greeting  filled  him  with  pleasure.  The  interest  in 
so  trifling  a  matter  as  a  student's  pronunciation, 
and  the  kindness  which  led  him  to  act  on  the 
information  he  received,  were  distinctly  character- 
istic of  Dr.  Holmes.  In  fact,  however,  pronuncia- 
tion was  to  him  hardly  trifling.  A  false  accent,  an 
awkward  turn  of  phrase  jarred  on  his  delicate 
organization.  In  his  rhymed  lesson  he  had  writ- 
ten:— 

«  Learning  condemns  beyond  the  reach  of  hope 
The  careless  lips  that  speak  of  soap  for  soap; 
Her  edict  exiles  from  her  fair  abode, 
The  clownish  voice  that  utters  road  for  road.* 

®  What  are  you  doing  ? "  he  once  asked  another 
student  in  the  dissecting-room.  **  Ligating  arteries, 
sir.*  *Why  not  say  tie?*  asked  Dr.  Holmes,  "I 
find  that  country  practitioners  ligate  arteries,  and 
that  surgeons  tie  them.  *  The  best  of  this  anecdote 
is  that  the  unappreciative  student  spread  it  as  a 
joke  against  Dr.  Holmes.  His  quick  observation 
of  details  was  one  of  his  most  evident  traits,  joined 
to  the  activity  of  mind  which  led  him  to  follow  up 
the  clues.  It  is  told  that  he  once  asked  a  passing 
student  what  relation  he  was  to  a  certain  physician 
long  dead.  The  student  denied  all  knowledge  of 
him,  but  Dr.  Holmes  begged  him  to  ask  his  father, 


THE   PROFESSOR  2f 

as  the  similarity  of  the  shape  of  the  head  was  so 
striking  that  he  thought  there  must  be  some  re- 
lationship, which  in  fact  proved  to  be  the  case. 

To  return  to  my  own  recollections  of  Dr.  Holmes : 
In  my  student  life,  from  the  time  that  he  spoke  to 
me  in  the  hall  he  always  paid  me  special  attention, 
which  increased   as    my   fondness   for   anatomy  de- 
veloped.    His  kindness  continued  without  interrup- 
tion until  the  end  of  his  life.     During  that  autumn 
I  frequently  recited    to   Dr.  Holmes,  and   saw  the 
great  patience  and  interest  with    which  he  demon- 
strated   the    more    difficult   parts   of   the    skeleton. 
In  November  began  the  dreary  season  of  perpetual 
lectures,  from   morning  till  night,  to   large   classes 
of  more  or  less   turbulent   students.     The   lectures 
began  usually  at  nine,  sometimes  at  eight,  and  con- 
tinued without  interruption   until  two,  old  students 
and  new  for  the  most  part   attending  all  of    them. 
The   lecture  on    anatomy  came    at    one  o'clock  five 
days    in   the  week.     I    lack   power   to   express   the 
weariness,  the  disgust,  and  sometimes  the  exasper- 
ation, with  which,  after  four  or  five  hours  of  lect- 
ures, bad   air,  and    rapid  note-taking  had    brought 
their  crop  of  headaches  and  bad  temper,  we  resigned 
ourselves  to  another  hour.     No  one  but  Dr.  Holmes 
could  have  been  endured  under  the  circumstances. 
For    the   proper   understanding,    not   merely   of 
anecdotes,  but  of   causes  which  had  their  influence 
on  Dr.  Holmes's  scientific  life,  I  must  say  a  word 
or  two  of  the  plan   of   the   old  building    in    North 
Grove  Street.    Above  the  basement,  a  long,  straight, 
steep  flight  of  stairs  led  from  the  first  to  the  second 
story,  down   which,  according   to    Dr.  Holmes,  the 
late  Dr.  John  K.  Mitchell  predicted  the  class  would 
some  day  precipitate    itself  like    a   certain   herd  of 
swine.      Directly    in    front    of    these    stairs   was    a 
small  room,  the   demonstrator's,  where  the   dissec- 
tions for  Dr.   Holmes's  lectures  were  made.     Oppo- 
site to  it  was  a  similar  room,  called  the  professors' 


28  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

room,  in  which  they  sat  for  a  few  minutes  before 
and  after  lectures  —  little  used,  however,  except  by 
the  late  professor  J.  B.  S.  Jackson,  the  eminent 
curator  of  the  museum.  The  remainder  of  this 
floor  was  occupied  on  one  side  by  the  museum  and 
on  the  other  by  the  amphitheatre. 

A  passage  ran  along  either  side  of  the  amphi- 
theatre from  which  a  space  under  the  seats  could 
be  entered.  It  should  be  evident  from  this  de- 
scription that  there  was  no  place  which  any  pro- 
fessor could  call  his  own  and  where  he  could  study 
in  peace.  As  Dr.  Holmes  has  since  told  me,  he 
probably  would  have  done  more  original  work  if 
he  had  had  better  accommodations.  In  later  years 
this  want  became  so  urgent  that  he  boarded  up 
for  himself  a  little  room  under  the  seats  where  he 
kept  his  plates  and  his  microscopes.  It  was  a 
poor  thing,  but  his  own,  and  he  valued  it  as  such. 
In  his  parting  address  he  said :  *^  I  have  never  been 
proud  of  the  apartment  beneath  the  seats  in  which 
my  preparations  for  lectures  were  made ;  but  I 
chose  it  because  I  could  have  it  to  myself,  and 
I  resign  it  with  the  wish  that  it  were  more  worthy 
of  regret,  into  the  hands  of  my  successor,  with  my 
parting  benediction.  Within  its  twilight  precincts 
I  have  often  prayed  for  light  like  Ajax,  for  the 
daylight  found  a  scanty  entrance  and  the  gaslight 
never  illuminated  its  dark  recesses.  May  it  prove 
to  him  who  comes  after  me  like  the  cave  of  Sibyl, 
out  of  the  gloomy  depths  of  which  came  the  oracles 
which  shone  with  the  rise  of  truth  and  wisdom.** 

In  1887  he  wrote  me:  "  If  I  were  a  score  or  two 
years  younger  than  I  am,  I  might  be  tempted  to 
envy  you,  remembering  my  quarters  at  the  old  col- 
lege, and  being  reminded  of  your  comfortable  and 
convenient  arrangements  in  the  new  building.  But 
I  do  not  envy  you  —  I  congratulate  you,  and  I  only 
hope  that  I  did  not  keep  you  waiting  too  long  for 
the  place.     ,     .     .** 


THE  PROFESSOR  29 

The  amphitheatre,  the  seats  of  which  were  at  a 
steep  pitch,  was  entered  by  the  students  from  above, 
through  two  doors,  one  on  each  side,  each  of  which 
was  approached  by  a  steep  stairway  between  nar- 
row walls.  The  doors  were  not  usually  opened 
until  some  minutes  after  the  hour.  The  space  at 
the  top  of  these  stairs  was  a  scene  of  crowding, 
pushing,  scuffling,  and  shouting  indescribable,  till 
at  last  a  spring  shot  back  both  bolts  at  once,  and 
from  each  door  a  living  avalanche  poured  down 
the  steep  alleys  with  an  irresistible  rush  that  made 
the  looker-on  hold  his  breath.  How  it  happened 
that  during  many  years  no  one  was  killed,  or  even 
seriously  injured,  is  incomprehensible.  The  excite- 
ment of  the  fray  having  subsided,  order  reigned 
until  the  entrance  of  the  professor,  which  was  fre- 
quently the  signal  for  applause.  He  came  in  with 
a  grave  countenance.  His  shoulders  were  thrown 
back  and  his  face  bent  down.  No  one  realized  bet- 
ter than  he  that  he  had  no  easy  task  before  him. 
He  had  to  teach  a  branch  repulsive  to  some,  diffi- 
cult, for  all;  and  he  had  to  teach  it  to  a  jaded  class 
which  was  unfit  to  be  taught  anything.  The  wood- 
en seats  were  hard,  the  backs  straight,  and  the  air 
bad.  The  effect  of  the  last  was  alluded  to  by  Dr. 
Holmes  in  his  address  at  the  opening  of  the  new 
school  in  1883. 

*  So,  when  the  class  I  was  lecturing  to  was  sit- 
ting in  an  atmosphere  once  breathed  already,  after 
I  had  seen  head  after  head  gently  declining,  and  one 
pair  of  eyes  after  another  emptying  themselves  of 
intelligence,  I  have  said,  inaudibly,  with  the  con- 
siderate self-restraint  of  Musidora's  rural  lover, 
*  Sleep  on,  dear  youth ;  this  does  not  mean  that  you 
are  indolent,  or  that  I  am  dull;  it  is  the  partial 
coma  of  commencing  asphyxia,  *  ^' 

To  make  head  against  these  odds  he  did  his  ut- 
most   to    adopt    a    sprightly    manner,    and    let    no 


30  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

opportunity  for  a  jest  escape  him.  These  would  be 
received  with  quiet  appreciation  by  the  lower 
benches,  and  with  uproarious  demonstrations  from 
the  *  mountain,'^  where,  as  in  the  French  Assembly 
of  the  Revolution,  the  noisest  spirits  congregated. 
He  gave  his  imagination  full  play  in  comparisons 
often  charming  and  always  quaint.  None  but 
Holmes  could  have  compared  the  microscopical 
coiled  tube  of  a  sweatgland  to  a  fairy's  intestine. 
Medical  readers  will  appreciate  the  aptness  of  liken- 
ing the  mesentery  to  the  shirt  ruffles  of  a  preceding 
generation,  which  from  a  short  line  of  attachment 
expanded  into  yards  of  complicated  folds.  He  has 
compared  the  fibres  connecting  the  two  symmetri- 
cal halves  of  the  brain  to  the  band  uniting  the 
Siamese  twins.  His  lectures  frequently  contained 
aids  to  memory  which  seemed  perhaps  childish  to 
the  more  advanced.  I  can  almost  hear  him  say, 
speaking  of  the  acromion  process  of  the  shoulder- 
blade,  **^Now,'  says  the  student,  *how  shall  I  re- 
member that  hard  word?  *  Let  him  think  of  the 
Acropolis,  the  highest  building  in  Athens,  and  re- 
member that  the  acromion  is  the  highest  point  of 
the  shoulder.** 

All  who  have  seen  it  will  remember  his  demon- 
stration of  how  the  base  of  the  skull,  its  weakest 
part,  may  be  broken  by  a  fall  on  the  top  of  the 
head.  He  had  a  strong  iron  bar  bent  into  a  circle 
of  some  six  inches  in  diameter,  with  a  gap  left 
between  the  ends  just  large  enough  to  be  filled 
by  a  walnut.  The  ring  was  then  dropped  to  the 
floor  so  as  to  strike  on  the  convexity  just  opposite 
to  the  walnut,  which  invariably  was  broken  to 
pieces.     .     .     . 

In  spite  of  the  attention  bestowed  on  dissection, 
I  do  not  think  that  he  much  fancied  dissecting 
himself,  though  our  museum  still  has  some  few 
specimens  of  his  preparation.  Once  he  asked  me 
which   part   of   anatomy    I    liked   best,  and   QU  my 


THE  PROFESSOR  $t 

saying  ^*the  bones,**  he  replied:  ^*so  do  I;  it  is  the 
cleanest.  **  Still  he  usually  gave  the  class  the  time- 
honored  joke  that  bones  are  dry. 

Like  all  sensible  men,  he  recognized  the  neces- 
sity of  vivisection.  He  has  called  it  "a  mode  of 
acquiring  knowledge  justifiable  in  its  proper  use, 
odious  beyond  measure  in  its  abuse,"  but  I  am  sure 
that  in  his  heart  he  hated  it  bitterly.  But  if  in 
physiology  he  eschewed  vivisection,  believing,  per- 
haps, with  Hyrtl,  <<that  nature  will  tell  the  truth 
all  the  better  for  not  being  put  to  the  torture,**  he 
did  some  work  which  now  would  be  dignified  with 
the  name  of  experimental  psychology.     .     .     . 

Here  is  his  definition  of  life  :  "  The  state  of  an 
organized  being,  in  which  it  maintains,  or  is  capa- 
ble of  maintaining,  its  structural  integrity  by  the 
constant  interchange  of  elements  with  the  surround- 
ing media.'*     .     . 

His  knowledge  of  anatomy  was  that  of  the 
scholar,  rather  than  that  of  the  practitioner.  He 
delighted  in  the  old  anatomists,  and  cared  little  for 
the  new.  He  maintained  that  human  anatomy  is 
much  the  same  study  that  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Vesalius  and  Fallopius.  He  actually  button-holed 
book  agents,  little  accustomed  to  be  pressed  to  stay, 
in  order  to  put  them  to  shame  by  the  superiority 
of  the  illustrations  in  his  old  anatomies.  It  pleased 
him  to  discuss  whether  we  should  say  the  Gasserian 
or  the  Casserian  ganglion.  His  books  were  very 
dear  to  him.  He  had  said  more  than  once  that  a 
twig  from  one  of  his  nerves  ran  to  every  one  of 
them. 

Literature  was  his  career.  That  early  attack  of 
poisoning  from  type  was  fatal  to  his  eminence  in 
any  other.  Though  I  fear  many  will  disagree  with 
me,  I  venture  to  say,  that  while  he  would  have 
been  a  great  anatomist  had  he  made  it  his  life's 
work,  he  could  never  have  been  a  great  teacher  of 
anatomy.      Successful    teaching    of    concrete    facts 


32  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

requires  a  smack  of  the  drill-master,  which  was 
foreign  to  his  gentle  nature.  The  very  methods 
which  did  so  much  to  make  his  lectures  popular 
and  charming,  at  times  irritated  the  more  earnest 
students,  hungry  for  knowledge. 

—  Thomas  Dwight,  M.  D. 


FRUITS    OF  VIVISECTION 

THE  vivisection  question  appears  to  be  one  on 
which  unanimity  of  judgment  can  never  be 
hoped  for.  But  it  is  one,  also,  on  which  a  correct 
judgment  is  exceedingly  desirable.  For,  on  the 
one  hand,  if  vivisection  be  necessary  to  medical 
science,  it  is  evidently  closely  connected  with  the 
health  of  the  community.  And,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  it  be  irreconcilable  with  moral  conduct,  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  community  to  prevent  it  at  any  cost. 
Of  course  the  latter  question  can  only  be  decided 
by  a  strict  consideration  of  the  former.  For  on 
the  admission  of  the  most  learned  theologians,  the 
infliction  of  pain  and  even  of  death  is  permissible 
under  certain  circumstances.  In  the  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances of  vivisection,  the  quantity  and  inten- 
sity of  the  pain  have  to  be  considered  in  conjunction 
with  the  benefits  derived.  With  a  view  to  summing 
up  in  a  popular  form  the  chief  established  results 
of  animal  experiment,  the  following  collection  has 
been  made.  There  are  three  chief  fields  of  research 
—  physiology,  pathology,  and  therapeutics.  The 
discoveries  run  into  three  figures,  and  it  is  impos- 
sible here  to  refer  to  more  than  a  few. 

Chloral  hydrate,  paraldehyde,  sulphonal,  and 
very  many  drugs  of  a  similar  action  were  all  dis- 
covered by  experiment  on  animals.  Hardly  one  of 
us  passes  through  life  without  being  indebted  for 
a  good  night's  sleep  to  them  now  and  again.  In 
the  case  of  people  who,  from  wakefulness   through 


THE  PROFESSOR  33 

nervous  irritability,  are  actually  on  the  high  road 
to  insanity,  these  drugs  have  been  of  extreme 
value.  Opium  was,  and  probably  is,  the  physician's 
sheet  anchor  in  such  cases.  But  frequently  it  had 
serious  ill  consequences.  And  these  drugs  are  such 
valuable  substitutes  it  is  hard  to  understand  how 
the  physician  could  get  on  without  them. 

Eucalyptus  is  too  well  known  to  need  descrip- 
tion. 

Iodoform  is  the  very  blandest  and  most  useful 
antiseptic  the  surgeon  possesses  for  minor  opera- 
tions. Anti-pyrin  in  fever,  jaborandi  in  dropsy, 
nitro-glycerine  in  sciatica  and  other  nervous  dis- 
eases are  all  most  valuable.  And  all  came  into 
use  through  experiment  on  animals. 

Salicylic  Acid. —  Has  anyone  known  the  excru- 
tiating  agony  of  rheumatic  fever,  when,  if  he  were 
dying  of  thirst,  he  could  not  reach  out  for  a  drink ; 
and  does  he  deny  the  utility  of  experiment  on  ani- 
mals when  told  that  by  this  means  salicylic  acid 
was  discovered? 

Strychnine,  under  whose  influence  those  suffer- 
ing from  nervous-prostration  preventing  all  work 
may  become  vigorous  and  energetic,  was  discovered 
by  the  fearfully  abused  Majendie.  It  now  probably 
enters  into  one  in  every  ten  of  the  prescriptions 
written  by  doctors,  and  it  is  invaluable  in  the  treat- 
ment of  atonic  dyspepsia. 

Nitrate  of  Amyl. —  Only  doctors,  as  a  rule,  wit- 
ness the  beneficent  action  of  drugs.  But  anyone 
who  has  seen  the  horrible  convulsions  of  uraemia 
and  epilepsy,  or  the  agony  of  angina  pectoris,  could 
not  doubt  the  value  of  the  experiments  that  dis- 
covered this  drug. 

Ergot. —  Probably  no  discovery  has  contributed 
so  much  to  the  lessening  of  the  mortality  of  women 
at  childbirth  as  this.  When  it  is  understood  that, 
with  rare  exceptions,  every  doctor  administers  it 
to  every  woman,  its  value  may  be  estimated.     It  is 

D.L.H.— 3 


34  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

also  used  to  control  bleeding  in  other  cases,  but 
thousands  of  mothers  owe  their  lives  to  it. 

Digitalis. —  Here  we  have  an  exceedingly  in- 
structive example  of  the  value  of  the  experimental 
method  compared  with  the  method  of  clinical  ob- 
servation which  it  is  proposed  should  replace  it. 
The  human  body  is  so  complex,  and  the  causes 
always  acting  on  it  are  so  numerous,  that,  when  a 
drug  is  administered,  and  the  man  recovers  or  dies, 
it  is  hard  to  say  how  far  his  cure  or  death  is  due 
to  the  drug,  and  how  far  to  the  other  causes. 
Digitalis  has  been  used  for  quite  three  hundred 
years.  When  the  heart  was  found  beating  very 
quickly  and  impatiently,  digitalis  was  given,  and 
the  heartbeat  became  slow  and  regular.  Clinical 
observation  proved  the  drug  to  have  a  calming  ef- 
fect on  the  heart,  and  it  was  classed  as  a  heart 
sedative.  Now  there  is  a  common  disease  of  the 
arteries  called  aneurism,  and,  in  that,  a  heart  seda- 
tive is  beneficial.  People  always  die  from  it  sooner 
or  later,  and,  therefore,  if  digitalis  were  adminis- 
tered and  the  patient  died,  clinical  observation 
could  not  determine  whether  his  death  was  hurried 
on  or  retarded  by  the  drug.  As  it  was  a  heart- 
sedative  it  would  retard  death  most  likely.  But 
the  experimenters  have  lately  discovered  that  digi- 
talis is  not  a  sedative  at  all,  but  its  opposite  —  a 
stimulant.  The  impatient  heart  was  not  beating 
quickly  through  nervous  energy,  but  through  mus- 
cular weakness.  Digitalis  strengthened  it,  and  it 
could  afford  to  do  its  work  slowly  and  quietly. 
Given  to  a  person  with  a  weak  heart,  it  always 
certainly  helps  him  to  recover.  Doctors  describe  it 
as  [snatching  people  out  of  the  grave.  But  it  is 
not  a  sedative,  and,  given  to  a  person  suffering 
from  aneurism,  it  must  certainly  hasten  his  death. 

Pepsin  and  pancreatin  have  been  discovered, 
and,  as  the  knowledge  of  digestion  is  almost  en- 
tirely due  to  animal   experiment  their  rational  use 


THE   PROFESSOR  35 

has"  been  determined  thus.  Their  value  is  so  well 
known  that  they  are  now  regarded  as  drugs  which 
anyone  may  use  for  himself.  They  save  the  lives 
of  thousands  of  children  who  would  starve  without 
them.  What  mother  does  not  thank  the  practicer 
of  vivisection  who  discovered  these  ?  But  it  is  not 
children  only  who  gain.  Peptonized  milk,  soup, 
and  other  things  are  powerful  aids  to  recovery  in 
all  debilitating  diseases,  and  they  are  used  in  ty- 
phoid fever,  consumption,  hysteria,  and  a  score  of 
ailments  with  great  benefit. 

Carbolic  acid  was  discovered  by  Lemaire,  and 
its  use  in  surgery  introduced  by  Lister.  Since  then 
a  great  variety  of  antiseptic  dressings  have  come 
into  use,  all,  or  nearly  all,  through  experiments  on 
animals.  The  horrors  of  operative  surgery  in  the 
old  days  are  not  known  to  the  public  of  today,  and 
they  are  too  fearful  to  describe.  They  may  per- 
haps be  appreciated  when  it  is  said  that  when,  be- 
fore Lister's  discovery,  a  man's  leg  was  amputated, 
the  odor  of  decay  was  so  horrible  that  even  if 
he  were  on  the  third  floor  of  a  hospital  one  could 
detect  it  on  entering  the  hall.  Blood-poisoning, 
tetanus,  fever,  secondary  haemorrhage,  gangrene, 
all  of  which  used  to  prove  so  fatal,  are  now  hardly 
thought  of. 

Anaesthetics  were  discovered  by  experiment  on 
man.  An  English  surgeon  and  a  Virginia  dentist 
tried  them  on  themselves.  This  was  animal  ex- 
periment, and  of  a  costly  kind.  But  the  dangers 
and  safeguards  have  been  found  by  experiment  on 
the  lower  animals. 

Hypodermic  injection  was  discovered  by  Majen- 
die.  Morphia  is  perhaps  the  most  familiar  drug 
so  used.  But  the  variety  of  drugs  is  very  great, 
and  there  are  numerous  cases  in  which  life  would 
certainly  be  lost  if  there  was  no  way  of  medicating 
the  patient  except  through  the  mouth.  Obviously, 
this  method  of  medication  could  be  discovered  only 


36  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

by  experiment.  And,  as  it  has  its  dangers  and 
peculiarities,  if  the  experiments  were  first  performed 
on  man,  it  would  cost  many  lives. 

Ice  used  to  the  head  in  concussion  of  the  brain, 
to  the  chest  in  pneumonia,  etc.,  was  shown  to  be 
of  great  value  by  Naumann,  Wruternitz,  and  oth- 
ers, as  a  result  of  experiments  which  proved  that 
cold  applied  to  the  surface  had  the  effect  of  reduc- 
ing the  calibre  of  blood-vessels  at  a  distance. 

Toothache. —  Arkovey's  experiments  on  three 
dogs  brought  to  light  the  drug  which  dentists  use 
to  kill  the  pulp  of  the  tooth.  And  teeth  can  now 
be  stopped  without  possibility  of   subsequent  pain. 


An  enthusiastic  professor  was  advocating  the 
advantages  of  athletic  exercise.  ^*  The  Roman 
youths,  '*  he  cried,  "  used  to  swim  three  times  across 
the  Tiber  before  breakfast.*^  A  Scotch  student 
smiled,  at  which  the  irate  professor  exclaimed :  "  Mr. 
McAllister,  why  do  you  smile  ?  We  shall  be  glad 
to  share  your  amusement.  **  The  canny  Scot  replied : 
^^  I  was  just  thinking,  sir,  that  the  Roman  youths 
must  have  left  their  clothes  on  the  wrong  bank  at 
the  end  of  their  swim. '^ 


A  CERTAIN  French  surgeon  and  professor  of 
medicine,  dissecting  one  of  his  patients  at  a  clinic 
one  morning,  who,  he  asserted,  had  died  of  internal 
inflammation,  a  certain  process  of  which  he  con- 
tended was  the  cause  of  every  disease,  was  unable 
to  find  a  trace  of  it.  He  explained  the  circum- 
stance to  his  pupils  thus: 

** Messieurs, *  said  he,  "our  mode  of  treatment, 
as  you  see,  was  thoroughly  effective.  Our  patient 
is  dead,  but  he  died  —  cured.  '* 


THE   PROFESSOR  37 


UNCERTAINTY    THAT    WAS    UNPLEASANT 

SIR  William  MacCormac,  the  president  of  the 
Royal  College  of  Surgeons  of  London,  was  at 
times  quite  absent-minded.  He  was  an  indefatigable 
worker,  and  often  to  save  time  when  studying  in 
his  laboratory  had  a  light  luncheon  served  there. 
Once  his  assistants  heard  him  sigh  heavily,  and 
looking  up  saw  the  doctor  glaring  at  two  glass 
receptacles  on  his  table.  ^*  What  is  the  matter, 
doctor?  ^*  asked  one  of  the  youngsters.  *  Nothing 
in  particular,  *^  was  the  reply,  **  only  I  am  uncertain 
whether  I  drank  the  beef  tea  or  that  compound  I 
am  working  on.^^ 


Professor  Charles  Avery,  of  Hamilton  College, 
was  one  of  the  ablest  as  well  as  most  genial  and 
witty  of  college  professors.  On  one  occasion  a  class 
in  chemistry  were  deep  in  the  analysis  of  poisons, 
various  substances  being  given  containing  the  poison 
to  be  tested.  One  of  the  class,  inclining  in  his  re- 
searches rather  to  that  part  of  chemical  science 
relating  to  liquids  and  their  various  combinations 
as    beverages  —  a    research    oftener    prosecuted    in 

's   hotel   than   in   the   laboratory  —  asked   the 

doctor   if   it   would    not   be  well,   as   a  measure    of 

safety,    to  "  analyze    some    of  *s   whisky,  and 

test  it  for  strychnine  ?  *  "  No  need  of  that,  *  said 
the  doctor,  *if  there  was  any  in  it  you  would 
have  been  dead  long  ago  !  *' 


XJ> 


THE  YOUNG   DOCTOR 


Or  catches  some  doctor  quite  tender  and  young 
And  basely  insists  on  a  bit  of  his  tongue. 

—  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 


THE    BASE    INGRATITUDE    OF 
BARKIS,    M.    D. 

'he  time  has  arrived  when  it  is  possibly 
proper  that  I  should  make  a  note  of  the 
base  ingratitude  of  Barkis,  M.  D.  I  have 
hesitated  to  do  this  hitherto  for  several 
reasons,  any  one  of  which  would  prove 
a  valid  excuse  for  my  not  doing  so.  To  begin 
with,  I  have  known  Barkis  ever  since  he  was  a 
baby.  I  have  tossed  him  in  the  air,  to  his  own 
delight  and  to  the  consternation  of  his  mother,  who 
feared  lest  I  should  fail  to  catch  him  on  his  way 
down,  or  that  I  should  underestimate  the  distance 
between  the  top  of  his  head  and  the  ceiling  on  his 
way  up.  Later  I  have  held  him  on  my  knee  and 
told  him  stories  of  an  elevating  nature  —  mostly  of 
my  own  composition  —  and  have  afterward  put  these 
down  upon  paper  and  sold  them  to  syndicates  at 
great  profit.  So  that,  in  a  sense,  I  am  beholden 
to  Barkis  for  some  measure  of  my  prosperity.  Then, 
when  Barkis  grew  older,  I  taught  him  the  most 
approved  methods  of  burning  his  fingers  on  the 
Fourth  of  July,  and  when  he  went  to  college  I  am 
convinced  that  he  gained  material  aid  from  me  in 
that  I  loaned  him  my  college  scrap-books,  which 
contained,  among  other  things,  a  large  number  of 
examination  papers  which  I  marvel  greatly  to-day 
(38) 


THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR  39 

that  I  was  ever  able  successfully  to  pass,  and  which 
gave  to  him  some  hint  as  to  the  ordeal  he  was 
about  to  go  through.  In  his  younger  professional 
days,  also,  I  have  been  Barkis's  friend,  and  have 
called  him  up,  to  minister  to  a  pain  I  never  had, 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  simply  because  I 
had  reason  to  believe  that  he  needed  four  or  five 
dollars  to  carry  him  through  the  ensuing  hours  of 
the  day. 

Quotation  books  have  told  us  that  in  love,  as 
well  as  in  war,  all  is  fair,  and  if  this  be  true 
Barkis's  ingratitude,  the  narration  of  which  cannot 
give  pain,  becomes,  after  all,  nothing  more  than  a 
venial  offense.  I  do  not  place  much  reliance  upon 
the  ethics  of  quotation  books  generally,  but  when 
I  remember  my  own  young  days,  and  the  things  I 
did  to  discredit  the  other  fellow  in  that  little  affair 
which  has  brought  so  much  happiness  into  my  life, 
I  am  inclined  to  nail  my  flag  to  the  masthead  in 
defense  of  the  principle  that  lovers  can  do  no  wrong. 
It  is  no  ordinary  stake  that  a  lover  plays  for,  and 
if  he  stacks  the  cards,  and  in  other  ways  turns  his 
back  upon  the  guiding  principles  of  his  life,  blame- 
worthy as  he  may  be,  I  shall  not  blame  him,  but 
shall  incline  rather  toward  applause. 

On  the  other  hand,  something  is  due  to  the 
young  ladies  in  the  case,  and  as  much  for  their 
sake  as  for  any  other  reason  have  I  set  upon  paper 
this  narrative  of  the  man's  ingratitude,  simply  tell- 
ing  the  story  and  drawing  no  conclusions  what- 
ever. 

Barkis  was  not  endowed  with  much  in  the  way 
of  worldly  possessions.  His  father  had  died  when 
the  lad  was  very  young,  and  had  left  the  boy  and 
his  mother  to  struggle  on  alone.  But  there  was 
that  in  both  of  them  which  enabled  the  mother  to 
feel  that  the  boy  was  worth  struggling  for,  and  the 
boy  at    a   very  early  age  to   realize   the    difficulties 


4©  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

of  the  struggle,  and  to  like  the  difficulties  because 
they  afforded  him  an  opportunity  to  help  his  mother 
either  in  not  giving  her  further  trouble  or  in  bring- 
ing to  her  efforts  aid  of  a  very  positive  kind. 

Boys  of  this  kind  —  and  in  saying  this  I  cast  no 
reflections  whatsoever  upon  that  edifying  race  of 
living  creatures  whom  I  admire  and  respect  more 
than  any  other — are  so  rare  that  it  did  not  take 
the  neighbors  of  the  Barkis  family  many  days  to 
discover  that  the  little  chap  was  worth  watching, 
and  if  need  be  caring  for  in  a  way  which  should 
prove  substantial.  There  are  so  many  ways,  too, 
in  which  one  may  help  a  boy  without  impairing 
his  self-reliance  that  on  the  whole  it  was  not  very 
difficult  to  assist  Barkis.  So  when  one  of  his  neigh- 
bors employed  him  in  his  office  at  a  salary  of  eight 
dollars  a  week,  when  other  boys  received  only  four 
for  similar  service,  the  lad,  instead  of  feeling  him- 
self favored,  assumed  an  obligation  and  made  him- 
self worth  five  times  as  much  as  the  other  boys, 
so  that  really  his  employer,  and  not  he,  belonged 
to  the  debtor  class. 

Some  said  it  was  a  pity  that  little  Barkis  wasted 
his  talents  in  a  real  estate  office,  but  they  were  the 
people  who  didn't  know  him.  He  expended  his 
nervous  energy  in  the  real  estate  office,  but  his 
mind  he  managed  to  keep  free  for  the  night  school, 
and  when  it  came  to  the  ultimate  it  was  found  that 
little  Barkis  had  wasted  nothing.  He  entered  col- 
lege when  several  other  boys  —  who  had  not  served 
in  a  real  estate  office,  who  had  received  diplomas 
from  the  high  school,  and  who  had  played  while 
he  had  studied  —  failed. 

That  his  college  days  were  a  trial  to  his  mother 
every  one  knew.  She  wished  him  to  keep  his  end 
up,  and  he  did  —  and  without  spending  all  that  his 
mother  sent  him,  either.  The  great  trouble  was 
that  at  the  end  of  his  college  course  it  was  under- 


THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR  41 

stood  that  Barkis  intended  studying  medicine. 
When  that  crept  out  the  neighbors  sighed.  They 
deprecated  the  resolve  among  themselves,  but  ap- 
plauded the  boy's  intention  to  his  face. 

"  Good  for  you,  Jack !  *^  said  one.  **  You  are  just 
the  man  for  a  doctor,  and  I'll  give  you  all  my 
business.  '^ 

This  man,  of  course,  was  a  humorist. 

Another  said  :  ^<  Jack,  you  are  perfectly  right. 
Real  estate  and  coal  are  not  for  you.  Go  in  for 
medicine;  when  my  leg  is  cut  off  you  shall  do  the 
cutting.  '^ 

To  avoid  details,  however,  some  of  which  would 
make  a  story  in  themselves,  Jack  Barkis  went 
through  college,  studied  medicine,  received  his 
diploma  as  a  full-fledged  M.  D.,  and  settled  down 
at  Phillipsburg  for  practice.  And  practice  did  not 
come!     And  income  was  not. 

It  was  plainly  visible  to  the  community  that  Barkis 
was  hard  up,  as  the  saying  is,  and  daily  growing 
rhore  so.  To  make  matters  worse,  it  was  now  im- 
possible to  help  him  as  the  boy  had  been  helped. 
He  was  no  longer  a  child,  but  a  man;  and  the 
pleasing  little  subterfuges,  which  we  had  employed 
to  induce  the  boy  to  think  he  was  making  his  way 
on  his  own  sturdy  little  legs,  with  the  man  were 
out  of  the  question.  His  clothing  grew  thread- 
bare, and  there  were  stories  of  insufficient  nourish- 
ment. As  time  went  on  the  outward  and  visible 
signs  of  his  poverty  increased,  yet  no  one  could 
devise  any  plan  to  help  him. 

And  then  came  a  solution,  and  inasmuch  as  it 
was  brought  about  by  the  S.  F.  M.  E.,  an  associa- 
tion of  a  dozen  charming  young  women  in  the  city 
forming  the  Society  for  Mutual  Encouragement,  or 
Enjoyment,  or  Endorsement,  or  something  else 
beginning  with  E  —  I  never  could  ascertain  defi- 
nitely what   the   E  stood  for  —  it  would  seem  as  if 


42  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

the  young  ladies  should  have  received  greater  con- 
sideration than  they  did  when  prosperity  knocked 
at  the  Doctor's  door. 

It  seems  that  the  Doctor  attended  a  dance  one 
evening  in  a  dress  coat,  the  quality  and  lack  of 
quantity  of  which  was  a  flagrant  indication  of  a 
sparce,  not  to  say  extremely  needy,  wardrobe.  All 
his  charm  of  manner,  his  grace  in  the  dance,  his 
popularity,  could  not  blind  others  to  the  fact  that 
he  was  ill-dressed,  and  the  girls  decided  that  some- 
thing must  be  done,  and  at  once. 

<<  We  might  give  a  lawn  fete  for  his  benefit,  ** 
one  of  them  suggested. 

"  He  isn't  a  church  or  a  Sunday-school,  **  Miss 
Daisy  Peters  retorted.  ^*  Besides,  I  know  Jack 
Barkis  well  enough  to  know  that  he  would  never 
accept  charity  from  any  one.  We've  got  to  help 
him  professionally.* 

*'  We  might  boycott  all  the  fellows  at  dances,  ** 
suggested  Miss  Wilbur,  "  unless  they  will  patronize 
the  Doctor.  Decline  to  dance  with  them  unless 
they  present  a  certificate  from  Jack  proving  that 
they  are  his  patients." 

«  Humph ! »  said  Miss  Peters.  «  That  wouldn't  do 
any  good.  They  are  all  healthy,  and  even  if  they 
did  go  to  Jack  for  a  prescription  the  chances  are 
they  wouldn't  pay  him.  They  haven't  much  more 
money  than  he  has." 

<*  I  am  afraid  that  is  true,"  assented  Miss  Wil- 
bur. « Indeed,  if  they  have  any  at  all,  I  can't  say 
that  they  have  given  much  sign  of  it  this  winter. 
The  Bachelors'  Cotillon  fell  through  for  lack  of  in- 
terest, they  said,  but  I  have  my  doubts  on  that 
score.  It's  my  private  opinion  they  weren't  willing 
or  able  to  pay  for  it." 

<*  Well,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  we  can  do 
to  help  Jack.  If  he  had  our  combined  pocket-money 
he'd  still  be  poor,"  sighed  Miss  Peters. 


THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR 


43 


« He  couldn't  be  induced  to  take  it  unless  he 
earned  it, »  said  little  Betsy  Barbett.  «  You  all  know 
that." 

«  Hurrah ! »  cried  Miss  Peters,  clapping  her 
hands  ecstatically ;  «  I  have  it !  I  have  it !  I  have  it ! 
We'll  put  him  in  the  way  of  earning  it.** 

And  they  all  put  their  heads  together  and  the 
following  was  the  result: 

The  next  day  Jack  Barkis's  telephone  rang  more 
often  in  an  hour  than  it  had  ever  done  before,  and 
every  ring  meant  a  call. 

The  first  call  was  from  Miss  Daisy  Peters,  and 
he  responded. 

*  I'm  so  sorry  to  send  for  you  —  er — Doctor," 
she  said  —  she  had  always  called  him  Jack  before, 
but  now  he  had  come  professionally  —  <<  for  —  for 
—  Rover,  but  the  poor  dog  is  awfully  sick  to-day, 
and  Doctor  Pruyn  was  out  of  town.  Do  you  mind?** 
«  Certainly  not,  [Daisy,**  he  replied,  a  shade  of 
disappointment  on  his  face.  I  am  inclined  to  be- 
lieve he  had  hoped  to  find  old  Mr.  Peters  at  death's 
door.  «  If  the  dog  is  sick  I  can  help  him.  What 
are  his  symptoms  ?  ** 

And  Miss  Peters  went  on  to  say  that  her 
cherished  Rover,  she  thought,  had  malaria.  He 
was  tired  and  lazy,  when  usually  he  rivaled  the 
cow  that  jumped  over  the  moon  for  activity.  She 
neglected  to  say  that  she  had  with  her  own  fair 
hands  given  the  poor  beast  a  dose  of  sulfonal  the 
night  before  — not  enough  to  hurt  him,  but  suffi- 
cient  to  make  him  appear  tired   and  sleepy. 

*^  I  must  see  my  patient,  **  said  the  Doctor  cheer- 
fully.    «  Will  he  come  if  I  whistle  ?  ** 

Miss  Peters  was  disinclined  to  accede  to  this 
demand.  She  was  beginning  to  grow  fearful  that 
Jack  would  see  through  her  little  subterfuge,  and 
that  the  efforts  of  the  S.  F.  M.  E.  would  prove 
fruitless. 


44  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

^<Oh,»  she  demurred,  «is  that— er  — necessary? 
Rover  isn't  a  child,  you  know.  He  won't  stick 
out  his  tongue  if  you  tell  him  to— and,  er— I 
don't  think  you  could  tell  much  from  his  pulse  — 
and » 

«I'd  better  see  him,  though,"  observed  Jack 
quietly.      ^*I  certainly  can't  prescribe  unless  I  do.» 

So  Rover  was  brought  out,  and  it  was  indeed 
true  that  his  old-time  activity  had  been  superseded 
by  a  lethargy  which  made  the  wagging  of  his  tail 
a  positive  effort.  Still,  Dr.  Barkis  was  equal  to 
the  occasion,  prescribed  for  the  dog,  and  on  his 
books  that  night  wrote  down  a  modest  item  as 
against  Mr.  Billington  Peters  and  to  his  own 
financial  credit.  Furthermore,  he  had  promised 
to  call  again  the  next  day,  which  meant  more 
practice. 

On  his  return  home  he  found  a  hurry  call  await- 
ing him.  Miss  Betsy  Barbett  had  dislocated  her 
wrist.  So  to  the  Barbett  mansion  sped  Doctor 
Barkis,  and  there,  sure  enough,  was  Miss  Barbett 
apparently  suffering  greatly. 

*0h,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,^^  she  moaned. 
*  It  hurts  dreadfully,  Jack  —  I  mean  Doctor.  '^ 

"I'll  fix  that  in  a  second,'^  said  he,  and  he  did, 
although  he  thought  it  odd  that  there  were  no 
signs  of  any  inflammation.  He  was  not  aware  that 
one  of  the  most  cherished  and  fascinating  accom- 
plishments of  Miss  Barbett  during  her  childhood 
had  been  her  ability  to  throw  her  wrist  out  of 
joint.  She  could  throw  any  of  her  joints  out  of 
place,  but  she  properly  chose  her  wrist  upon  this 
occasion  as  being  the  better  joint  to  intrust  to  a 
young  physician.  If  Jack  had  known  that  until  his 
coming  her  wrist  had  been  all  right,  and  that  it 
had  not  become  disjointed  until  he  rang  the  front 
door  bell  of  the  Barbett  house,  he  might  not  have 


THE   YOUNG   DOCTOR 


45 


been  so  pleased  as  he  entered  the  item  against 
Judge  Barbett  in  his  book,  nor  would  he  have 
wondered  at  the  lack  of  inflammation. 

So  it  went.  The  Hicks's  cook  was  suddenly  taken 
ill  —  Mollie  Hicks  gave  her  a  dollar  to  do  it  —  and 
Jack  was  summoned.  The  Tarleton's  coachman 
was  kept  out  on  a  wet  night  for  two  hours  by 
Janette  Tarleton,  and  very  properly  contracted  a 
cold,  for  which  the  young  woman  made  herself  re- 
sponsible, and  Doctor  Barkis  was  called  in.  Then 
the  society  discovered  many  a  case  among  the 
worthy  poor  needing  immediate  medical  treatment 
from  Barkis,  M.  D.,  and,  although  Jack  wished  to 
make  no  charge,  insisted  that  he  should,  and  threat- 
ened to  employ  some  one  else  if  he  didn't. 

By  degrees  a  practice  resulted  from  this  con- 
spiracy of  the  S.  F.  M.  E.,  and  then  a  municipal 
election  came  along,  and  each  candidate  for  the 
Mayoralty  was  given  quietly  to  understand  by 
parties  representing  the  S.  F.  M.  E.  that  unless 
Jack  Barkis  was  made  health  officer  of  the  city 
he'd  better  look  out  for  himself,  and  while  both 
candidates  vowed  they  had  made  no  pledges,  each 
had  sworn  ten  days  before  election  day  by  all  that 
was  holy  that  Barkis  should  have  this  eighteen- 
hundred-dollar  office  —  and  he  got  it !  Young  women 
may  not  vote,  but  they  have  influence  in  small 
cities. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  year  of  the  S.  F.  M. 
E.'s  resolve  that  Barkis  must  be  cared  for  he  was 
in  receipt  of  nearly  twenty-eight  hundred  dollars  a 
year,  could  afford  a  gig  and  so  command  a  practice ; 
and  having  obtained  his  start,  his  own  abilities  took 
care  of  the  rest. 

And  then  what  did  Jack  Barkis,  M.  D.,  do? 
When  luxuries  began  to  manifest  themselves  in  his 
home  —  indeed,  when  he  found  himself  able  to  rent 


46  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

a  better  one  —  whom  did  he  ask  to  share  its  joys 
with  him  ? 

Miss  Daisy  Peters,  who  had  dosed  her  dog  that 
he  might  profit?     No,  indeed! 

Miss  Betsy  Barbett,  who  disfigured  her  fair  wrist 
in  his  behalf  ?     Alas,  no ! 

Miss  Hicks,  who  had  spent  a  dollar  to  bribe  a 
cook  that  he  might  earn  two  ?  No,  the  ungrateful 
wretch ! 

Any  member  of  the  S.  F.  M.  E.?  I  regret  to 
say  not. 

He  has  gone  and  married  a  girl  from  Los  An- 
geles, whom  he  met  on  one  of  the  summer  vaca- 
tions the  S.  F.  M.  E.  had  put  within  his  reach  — 
a  girl  from  whom  no  portion  of  his  measure  of 
prosperity  had  come. 

Such  was  the  ingratitude  of  Barkis.  They  have 
never  told  me  so,  but  I  think  the  S.  F.  M.  E.  feel 
it  keenly.  Barkis  I  believe  to  be  unconscious  of  it 
—  but  then  he  is  in  love  with  Mrs.  Barkis,  which 
is  proper;  and  as  I  have  already  indicated,  when  a 
man  is  in  love  there  are  a  great  many  things  he 
does  not  see  —  in  fact,  there  is  only  one  thing  he 
does  see,  and  that  is  Her  Majesty,  the  Queen,  I 
can't  blame  Barkis,  and  even  though  I  were  aware 
of  the  conspiracy  to  make  him  prosperous,  I  did 
not  think  of  the  ungrateful  phase  of  it  all  until  I 
spoke  to  Miss  Peters  about  his  fiancee,  who  had 
visited  Phillipsburg. 

"She's  charming,*'  said  I.  "Don't  you  think 
so?» 

"  Oh,  yes, "  said  Miss  Peters  dubiously.  "  But 
I  don't  see  why  Jack  went  to  Los  Angeles  for  a 
wife." 

"  Ah? "  said  L  "  Maybe  it  was  the  only  place 
where  he  could  find  one.** 

"  Thank  you !  *  snapped  Miss  Peters.  "  For  my 
part,  I  think  Phillipsburg  girls  are  quite  as  attrac- 


THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR  47 

tive  —  ah  —  Betsy  Barbett  —  or  any  other  girl  in 
Jack's  circle.^' 

*  Like  yourself  ?  *     I  smiled. 

«  My !  '*  she  cried.  **  How  can  you  say  such  a 
thing  ?  » 

And  really  I  was  sorry  I  had  said  it.     It  seemed 

so  like  twitting  a  person  on   facts  when  I  came  to 

think  about  it. 

— John  Kendrick  Bangs. 


THE   YOUNG    WOMAN    AND    THE 
PHYSICIAN 

« TT  AM  sure, "  said  the  hypochondrical  young  woman 
11  to  the  physician,  ^*  that  my  complaint  is  a  very 
complicated  one.  I  suffer  from  muscular  weakness 
after  an  exertion,  a  feeling  of  fullness  in  the  stomach 
after  meals,  my  feet  tire  from  walking,  and  I  can't 
sleep  during  the  day.  Do  you  think  you  under- 
stand my  case  ? " 

**  Perfectly,  '*  replied  the  doctor,  who  could  fix 
no  relation  between  the  symptoms  at  all. 

^*  Perfectly,  *^  he  repeated  impressively,  nodding 
his  head  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  understands 
his  business.  This  he  did  very  artfully,  for  the 
doctor  had  lost  none  of  the  nerve  acquired  by 
watching  the  vivisection  of  innocent  animals  during 
his  student  days. 

Then  he  wrote  a  prescription  for  salt  water, 
which  he  gave  to  the  young  lady,  with  instructions 
to  return  in  a  week,  so  as  to  inform  him  of  her 
progress;  really,  to  refer  to  his  books  in  the  mean- 
time. 

But  the  doctor  could  find  nothing  to  enlighten 
him  in  all  his  books.     He  cursed  their  inadequacy. 

Presently  the  young  lady  returned.  On  her 
cheek  was  the  bloom  of  health. 


48  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

«I  cannot  be  too  grateful  to  you,  doctor/^  she 
said,  joyously.  "You  have  done  me  a  world  of 
good.  * 

The  doctor  smiled  contentedly. 

His  patient  was  cured.  The  brilliancy  of  the 
cure  would  warrant  him  charging  for  the  case  in- 
stead of  for  the  number  of  visits;  and  already  his 
mind  was  forming  the  outHne  of  a  paper  to  be 
read  before  the  medical  society  on  the  therapeutic 
value  of  salt  water  in  diseases  of  the  stomach,  in- 
somnia, muscular  rheumatism,  and  varicose  veins. 

Why  shouldn't  he  smile  ? 

—  Robert  Alexander  Bachmann. 


CHINESE    PRACTICE 

THE  following  medical  anecdote  comes  from 
Tokio,  Japan:  — 

One  of  my  friends  teaches  in  a  school  where  they 
hold  English  conversations,  in  order  to  perfect  the 
young  men  in  their  use  of  the  language.  Some 
members  of  the  conversation  class  often  tell  amus- 
ing stories  whose  grammar  is  "  fearful  and  wonder- 
ful/^ but  which  occasionally  have  a  sharp  edge  to 
them. 

Instance  the  following  "  hit  *'  at  the  medical 
profession  by  a  certain  student.  The  scene  occurs 
in  a  Chinese  city.  It  is  the  custom  there  for  a 
physician  to  give  notice  of  the  deaths  occurring  in 
his  professional  "  round  *  by  means  of  lanterns 
placed  before  his  dwelling.  A  stranger  arrives, 
eager  for  medical  assistance.  He  sees  lanterns 
flashing  through  the  night  at  many  a  doctor's  abode, 
tokens  of  the  number  whose  "  lamp  of  life  *^  the 
luckless  M.  D.  has  extinguished.  The  seeker  de- 
sires the  very  best  advice  for  his  afflicted  master, 
and  at  length  selects  one  physician's  house  as  likely 
to  afford  him  such.     On  presenting  himself  he  says 


THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR  49 

to  the  M.  D. ,  **  I  come  to  you  because  you  are  the 
greatest  among  your  profession,  the  most  skilled 
in  healing  arts.'^ 

"How's  that  ?  **  ejaculated  the  astonished  doctor; 

*  what  reason  have  you  to  think  so  ?  *^ 

"  Oh,  ^^  replies  the  stranger,  ^^  I  know  it  is  so  be- 
cause you  have  only  two  or  three  lanterns  at  your 
gate,  while  the  other  doctors  are  abundantly  sup- 
plied with  them.'* 

*Aha!'*    cries   the    crest-fallen    medical    expert, 

*  that  is  easily  accounted  for  —  /  only  began  prac- 
ticing today  .^^ 


A    BAD    MIXTURE 

THE  adaptation  of  a  certain  newly  fledged  M.  D. 
to  his  profession  was  under  discussion.  While 
many  qualities  possessed  by  the  gentleman  were 
conceded  to  be  desirable,  the  extreme  deliberation 
which  characterized  his  every  judgment  and  action 
was  counted  questionably  so. 

*  Still  **  argued  one,  with  friendly  interest,  **  that 
very  trait,  I  suppose,  would  tend  to  make  a  care- 
ful, reliable  physician.     Probably,   when  Mr.  B 

came  to  a  conclusion,  it  would  usually  be  a  correct 
one. " 

*Yes,*  replied  another,  thoughtfully,  "but  it 
seems  as  though  the  diagnosis  would  get  sort  of 
mixed  up  with  the  post-mortemj* 


PUTTING    HIS    FOOT    IN    IT 

Young  Doctor  (on  his  first  case)  —  "  Your  daugh- 
ter, sir,  doesn't  appear  to  have  any  organic  disease. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  she  is  pining  away  from 
some  secret  love-affair  —  some ** 

Mr.  Oleburrd  —  "  My  daughter,  sir  ?  Why,  con- 
found your  impudence!  that  is  my  wife.^* 

D.L.H. — ^4 


Jo  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

HE    WAS    A    BAD    WRITER 

Mrs.  Green  (to  Young  Physician,  whom  she 
has  called  in  haste)  — O,  Doctor!  Doctor!  I  fear 
you  have  made  a  terrible  mistake!  My  daughter 
had  that  prescription  which  you  sent  her  last  night 
filled,  and  took  a  dose  of  the  medicine.  Now  she 
exhibits  every  symptom  of  poisoning.     Oh 

Young  Physician  —  Prescription,  Madam  ?  Why, 
that  was  an  offer  of  marriage! 


HIS    UNCERTAINTY 

Farmer  Honk  —  Say,  Lem ! 

Farmer  Stackrider  —  Har  ? 

Farmer  Honk  —  Is  that  'ere  solemn,  spectacled 
young  nephew  of  your'n  that's  bein'  called  "  Doc- 
tor, *  and  goes  around  lookin'  as  wise  as  a  treef ul  of 
owls,  a  dentist,  a  hoss-physician,  a  corn-curer,  a 
layer-on-of-hands,  a  presidin'  elder,  or  just  a  com 
mon  doctor  that  saws  bones  and  kills  folks  ? 


A    HOMOEOPATH 

Mrs.  Jones — *  Did  Mrs.  Smith's  son  graduate  as 
an  allopath  or  a  homoeopath  ?  '^ 

Mrs.  Brown  —  ^^  Homoeopath,  I  think.  He's  been 
livin'  at  home  ever  since  he  took  his  degree.*^ 


THE    MOTTO 


Young  Dr.  Kallowell — Mr.  Cumso,  suppose  you 
suggest  to  me  a  good  motto  for  a  young  physician 
who  is  striving  to  work  up  a  practice. 

Cumso — How  does  ^^Live  and  let  live"  strike  you? 


Some   one  asked  a  young    doctor    where    he  got 
his  skeletons.     "We  raised  them,"  was  the  reply. 


THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR  51 


EASILY    DECIDED 

Patient  —  What  have  I  got,  doctor  ? 

Young  Physician — I  can't  tell  exactly  whether 
it  is  rheumatism  or  smallpox,  but  I've  been  called 
in  to  see  a  man  with  the  smallpox,  and  when  I 
see  what  he  looks  like  I'll  come  back  and  tell  you. 


The  opposing  counsel,  in  cross-examining  the 
young  doctor,  made  several  sarcastic  remarks,  doubt- 
ing the  ability  of  so  young  a  man  to  understand 
his  business.  The  result  proved  the  young  physician 
to  be  as  quick-witted  as  the  learned  counsel. 

**  Do  you  know  the  symptoms  of  concussion  of 
of  the  brain  ?  " 

*  I  do,  '^  replied  the  doctor. 

"  Well,  **  continued  the  attorney,  "  suppose  my 
learned  friend,  Mr.  Baging,  and  myself  were  to 
bang  our  heads  together,  should  we  have  concus- 
sion of  the  brain  ?  " 

"Your  learned  friend,  Mr.  Baging,  might,'*  said 
the  doctor. 


Young  Dr.  Pille  —  I  attended  Mrs.  Languish  to- 
day, Father,  but  I  can't  see  for  the  life  of  me  that 
anything  is  the  matter  with  her. 

Old  Dr.  Pille  (gasping)  —  But  for  Heaven's  sake, 
my  boy,  I  hope  you  didn't  say  anything  of  the  kind 
to  her  ! 

Young  Dr.  Pille  —  No,  Father. 

Old  Dr.  Pille  —  Good  !  You  know  a  healthy 
patient  lasts  a  long  time,  Mortimer  ! 


Aunt  —  Do    you    think     such    an    inexperienced 
young  man  can  cut  off  my  leg  ? 

Nephew  —  He  says  he  is  willing  to  try. 


THE   DIAGNOSIS 

The  jest  is  clearly  to  be  seen 

Not  in  the  words  —  but  in  the  gap  between. 


—  William  Cowper.  "Table  Talk.» 


EXTRACTS    FROM    LE    MALADE 
IMAGINARE 

Scene  9. 

Argait  —  I  pray  you  to  tell   me,  sir,  how    I  am. 

Diafoiriis  (feeling  his  pulse) — Ah!  Thomas, 
take  his  other  arm.  Let  us  see  what  our  united 
judgment  is  on  his  pulse.      Quid  dicis  ? 

Thomas  Diafoirus — Dico  that  the  pulse  of  this 
gentleman  is  the  pulse  of  a  man  who  is  not  well. 
It  is  a  hard  old  pulse. 

Diafoirus  —  That's  true,  my  dear. 

Thomas  Diafoirus  —  Elastic. 

Diafoirus  —  Bene. 

Thomas  Diafoirus  —  And  a  little  capricious. 

Diafoirus —  Optinie. 

Thomas  Diafoirus  —  This  indicates  a  disorder  of 
the  parenchyma  of  the  spleen. 

Diafoirus  —  Good  for  you ! 

Argan  —  No.  Dr.  Purgon  says  that  it  is  my 
liver   that  is  affected. 

Diafoirus  —  Yes,  that's  what  parenchyma  means, 
either  the  one  or  the  other,  either  the  liver  or  the 
spleen,  by  reason  of  the  close  sympathy,  va 
breve,  and  often  of  the  meatus  cholodochus  and 
pylorus.  He  ordered  you,  doubtless,  to  eat  roast 
meat. 

Argan — He    ordered  me   to  take    no   food  that 
was  not  boiled. 
(52) 


'  The  diagnosis  53 

Diafoirus  —  Of  course.  Roasted  and  boiled  are 
the  same  thing-. 

Argati  —  Doctor,  how  man)^  grains  of  salt  shall 
I  put  to  each  boiled  egg  ? 

Diafoirus  —  Six,  eight,  ten,  or  more,  in  even 
numbers,  however,  as  in  medicine  we  go  by  even 
numbers. 

Argan  —  Thanks,   Doctor.     Call  again. 

Scene  14. 

Toinette  (in  garb  of  a  physician)  —  Who  is  your 
doctor  ? 

Argan  —  Dr.   Purgon. 

Toinette  —  I  do  not  find  his  name  among  the  list 
of  more  celebrated  physicians.  What  did  he  say 
ailed  you  ? 

Argan — He  said  it  was  my  liver;  other  physi- 
cians called  in  tell  me  it  is  my  spleen. 

Toinette  —  They  are  all  ignoramuses :  it  is  your 
lung  that  is  affected. 

A  rgan  —  My  lungs  ? 

Toinette — Yes,  your  lungs.     How  do  your  feel? 

Argan  —  I  have  a  pain  in  the  head  from  time 
to  time. 

Toinette — Of  course;  that's  from  your  lungs. 

Argan  —  I  have  pain  in  the  heart  sometimes. 

Toinette  —  Yes.     That's  from  your  lungs. 

Argan  —  I  have  numbness  in  my  limbs  some- 
times. 

Toinette  —  Most  assuredly.  That's  from  your 
lungs. 

A  rgan  —  At  some  hours  I  have  belly-ache. 

Tohiette  —  Certainly !  That's  your  lungs.  Do 
you  not  have  an  appetite  ? 

Argan  —  Yes. 

Toinette  —  There  it  is  again  —  all  caused  by  your 
lungs.     Do  you  drink  a  little  wine   now  and  then  ? 

Arga?i  —  Yes,  Doctor. 


54  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Toinette — The  lungs  to  blame  again.  I  suppose 
you  sleep  a  little  after  each  meal,  and  feel  all  the 
better  for  the  slumber  ? 

A  rgan  —  Yes,    Doctor. 

Toinette — The  lungs,  the  lungs.  You  could  not 
do  thus  without  lungs.  What  has  your  physician 
ordered  you  as  a  diet  ? 

Argan — He  ordered  me  to  take  soup. 

Toinette  —  He  is  an  ass! 

Argan  —  Poultry. 

Toinette  —  He  is  a  fool! 

Argan — He  said  to  eat  veal.  * 

Toijiette — He  is  a  scoundrel! 

Argan  —  He  told  me  to  take  fresh  eggs. 

Toinette  —  He  is  a  perfect  ignoramus. 

Argan — At  night,  he  recommended  me  to  eat 
stewed  prunes  to  keep  my  bowels  open. 

Toinette  —  Ah,  the  rascal! 

Argan  —  Also,  to  take  my  wine  well  diluted. 

Toinette  —  Ig?iorantus,  ignorant  a,  ignorantum. 
Take  your  wine  strong  and  pure.  It  will  thicken 
your  blood,  which  is  weak.  Eat  good  fat  beef,  hog 
meat,  old  cheese  from  Holland.  Your  physician  is 
a  knavish  beast.  Come  into  my  hands  for  treat- 
ment. 

Argan — I  should  feel  under  obligations.  Doc- 
tor, if  you  will  but  take  my  case  in  charge. 

—  Moliere. 


A    SUFFERER 

Doctor — *You  are  very  nervous,  ma'am.  I'm 
afraid  you  are  suffering  from  overeating.*^ 

Patient — «  That's  just  it,  doctor.  I  run  a  Brook- 
lyn boarding-house,  and  the  majority  of  my  boarders 
eat  twice  as  much  as  they  pay  for.  It's  simply 
killing. » 


THE  DIAGNOSIS  55 


HiEMOPTYSIS 

SENSATION  of  Weight  and  oppression  at  the  chest, 
sirs; 
With  tickling  at   the  larynx,  which   scarcely  gives  you 

rest,  sirs; 
Full  hard  pulse,  salt  taste,  and  tongue  very  white,  sirs : 
And  blood  brought  up  in  coughing,  of  color  very  bright, 

sirs. 
It  depends  on  causes  three — the  first  's  exhalation; 
The  next  a  ruptured  artery  —  the  third,  ulceration. 
In  treatment  we  may  bleed,  keep  the  patient  cool  and 

quiet. 
Acid  drinks,  digitalis,  and  attend  to  a  mild  diet. 
Sing  hey,  sing  ho,  we  do  not  grieve 
When  this  formidable  illness  takes  its  leave. 


H  yE  M  A  T  E  M  E  S  I  S 

/?^  LOTTED    blood  is   thrown   up,    in   color  very   black, 

vi=^  sirs. 

And  generally  sudden,  as  it  comes  up  in  a  crack,  sirs. 

It'  s  preceded  at  the  stomach  by  a  weighty  sensation; 

But  nothing  appears  ruptured  upon  examination. 

It  differs  from  the  last,  by  the  particles  thrown  off,  sirs. 

Being   denser,    deeper  colored,    and    without   a    bit   of 

cough,  sirs. 
In  plethoric  habits  bleed,  and  some  acid  draughts  pour 

in,  gents. 
Sing  hey,  sing  ho;  if  you  think  the  lesion  spacious. 
The  acetate  of  lead  is  found  very  efficacious. 

—  Punch. 


CAUSE    FOR    ANXIETY 

Physician  ( with  ear  to  patient's  chest )  —  There 
is  a  curious  swelling  over  the  region  of  the  heart, 
sir,  which  must  be  reduced  at  once. 

Patient  (anxiously)  —  That  swelling  is  my  pocket- 
book,  doctor.     Please  don't  reduce  it  too  much. 


56  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

TOO    GREAT    A    STRAIN 

Physician  — V^'^-aX  is  your  profession,  sir? 
Patient  (pompously)  —  I'm  a  gentleman. 
Physician  — Y^eW,  you'll   have    to  try    something 
else;  it  doesn't  agree  with  you. 


HIS    COURSE    OF    ACTION 

Miss  Cohenstein  —  Vot  vould  you  haff  done  eef 
I  hat  refused  you  ? 

Mr.  Isaacs  —  Run  for  a  doctor,  to  see  vot  ailed 
you. 


©NE  day  this  week.  Dr.  P ,  who  had  com- 
pany  to  dinner,  sat  quietly  waiting  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  drawing-room,  when  he  was  told  that  a 
patient  had  come  to  see  him,  who  was  strongly 
recommended  by  some  fellow-practitioners,  and 
whose  card  was  brought  in  by  the  page.  The 
doctor  submitted  with  a  bad  grace  and  stepped 
into  his  surgery. 

The  visitor  was  in  an  advanced  stage  of  con- 
sumption. The  bronchial  tubes  were  in  a  deplor- 
able condition,  and  the  vocal  chords  nearly  worn 
out.  Our  physician  v/as  in  the  habit  of  ascertain- 
ing the  condition  of  the  patient  by  asking  him  to 
count,  and  generally  stopped  him  at  thirty  or 
thirty-five  —  quite    long    enough    for    the    purpose. 

This    time,   also.   Dr.   P asked    his    patient   to 

count.  Time  passed  on  and  the  guests  began  to 
feel    alarmed    at   his   protracted    absence.      One    of 

them  opened   the    surgery   door.     Dr.   P had 

gone  to  sleep  in  his  armchair,  and  the  patient  had 
counted  up  to  eight  thousand  six  hundred  and 
forty-two  ! 


THE  DIAGNOSIS  57 

Old  Lady-  ^*  Doctor,  kin  you  tell  me  how  it  is 
that  some  folks  is  born  dumb  ?  '* 

Doctor — ^^Why,  hem,  certainly,  madam.  It  is 
owing  to  the  fact  that  they  come  into  the  world 
without  the  power  of  speech.** 

Old  Lady — "La  me!  Now  jest  see  what  it  is 
to  have  physical  eddication!  I've  axed  my  old  man 
more  nor  a  hundred  times  that  same  thing,  and  all 
that  I  could  ever  get  out  of  him  was  jest  this, 
^'Kase  they  is!  *  '* 

It  is  said  that  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell,  returning  late 
from  a  party  in  a  neighboring  city  once,  wakened 
his  sister  to  tell  her  what  he  thought  was  too  good 
to  keep  till  morning.  A  lady  had  been  introduced 
to  him,  and  considering  him  a  scientific  man, 
wished  to  direct  her  conversation  accordingly. 
"  Doctor, "  said  she,  "  don't  you  think  the  cause  of 
so  much  sickness  is  the  want  of  sosodont  in  the 
air  ? » 


<<  Doctor,  what  do  you  think  is  the  matter  with 
my  little  boy  ?  ** 

*^  Why,  it's  only  a  corrustified  exegesis,  anti- 
spasmodically  emanating  from  the  germ  of  the  ani- 
mal refrigerator,  producing  a  prolific  source  of 
irritability  in  the  pericranial  epidermis  of  the  men- 
tal profundity.** 

"  Ah,  that's  what  I  told  Betsy,  but  she  '  lowed 
it  was  wurriims.^'^ 


Patient  —  "  Doctor,  I  am  a  sick  man.  My  sleep 
is  broken,  I  am  nervous  and  irritable,  my  skin  is 
overheated,  I  have  the  headache,  and  I  think  that 
the  canned  goods  did  it.** 

Doctor — "Well,  I  didn't  know  that  cigarettes 
w^ere  ever  put  up  in  cans.** 


58  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Patient — "  Doctor,  I  want  you  to   prescribe  for 

Doctor  (after  feeling  of  her  pulse)  —  « There  is 
nothing  the  matter,  Madame.  All  you  need  is 
rest.» 

Patient — "Now,  aren't  you  mistaken,  Doctor? 
Please  study  my  case  carefully.  Just  look  at  my 
tougue. '' 

Doctor  —  "  That  needs  rest,   too.  * 


Buxom.  Widow  (at  evening  party)  —  *^  Do  you 
understand  the  language  of  flowers,   Dr.  Crusty  ?  ** 

Dr.   Crusty  (an  old  bachelor)  —  "  No,  ma'am.  ^^ 

Widow — "You  don't  know  if  yellow  means 
jealousy  ?  ^'* 

Dr.  Crusty  —  "  No,  ma'am.  Yellow  means  bil- 
iousness. * 


Mrs.  Ikelstein  —  "  Ron  mit  der  doctor,  kervick, 
Solomon ;  ter  paby  ish  swallowt  a  silf er  toUar !  ** 

Mr.  I. «  Vos  it  dot  von  I  lefd  on  der  dable  ?  » 

Mrs.   I. "Yes,    dot    vas    id;    hurry    mit   der 

doctor.  *^ 

Mr.  I. "  Don'd    ged    oxcided,    Rajel,    it   vas 

gounderveid.  ** 


*  Doctor,  why  is  it  my  head  aches  so  when  I've 
come  off  a  spree  ? '' 

"  Because  your  brain  is  in  sympathy  with  your 
stomach.  ^^ 

"  It  is  ?     Well  it  shows  darn  poor  judgment.  *^ 


Doctor  —  *  Well  how  do  you  feel  to-day  ?  >^ 
Patient  —  "I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  dead  a  week." 
Doctor  —  «  Hot  —  Eh  ?  » 


THE  DIAGNOSIS 


69 


«  Doctor,  what  is  the  cause  of  this  rush  of  blood 
to  my  head  ?  " 

«  Effort  of  nature,  Madam.    It  abhors  a  vacuum. » 


Haverly  —  «  They  say  old  Soak  has  water  on  the 
brain.  *^ 

Austen  — "^^  Then  he  must  have  a  hole  on  the  top 
of  his  head.^* 


<<  Was  he  hurt  near  the  vertebrae  ?  * 
"  No,  near  the  observatory.  >> 


THE   DISEASE 


Indigestion   has  contributed  more  spots   to  the  sun   than 
any  other  cause.  "  Ram's  Horn.» 


BALLADE  OF  INCURABLE  MALADY 

[An  article  in  tlae  Lancet  asking,  «What  is  it  to  grow 
old?»  declares  that  it  is  «  arterio-sclerosis  causing  involu- 
tion of  the  central  neuron."] 

^HE  maidens  pass  me  —  and  I  sigh 
To  see  my  poor  attractions  wane ; 
Boys   that  I  know   scarce  two  feet 
high 
Look  down  upon  me  with  disdain ; 
And  soured  in  temper,  cross  of  grain, 
I  ask  the  doctors'  diagnosis; 

Thus  they  my  malady  explain  — 
It  is  arterio-sclerosis. 

When  stiffening  joint  and  hazy  eye 

From  sport  compel  me  to  refrain, 
Of  prowess  in  the  days  gone  by 

While  still  inordinately  vain; 

When  sneering  friends  I  entertain 
With  talk  that  daily  more  verbose  is  — 

This  is  your  work  in  limb  and  brain, 
Alas !  arterio-sclerosis. 

I  seek  (but  vainly!)  far  and  nigh, 
Cui;e  for  my  ailment  to  obtain; 

Myself  each  pleasure  I  deny. 
From  every  dainty  I  abstain  — 
Do  all  the  doctors  may  ordain. 

Try  plasters,  lotions,   pills  and  doses. 
From  which  all  ills  relief  can  gain  — 

Except  arterio-sclerosis. 
(60) 


THE  DISEASE  6l 


ENJOYED    HIS    CHILLS 

■ov/N  in  certain  sections  of  the  Mississippi 
River  bottoms  there  is  such  an  air  of 
unconcern  that  the  first  thought  of  a 
traveller  is:  ^^  These  people  are  too  lazy  to  enter- 
tain a  hope.'^  It  is,  however,  not  wholly  a  condi- 
tion of  laziness  that  produces  such  an  appearance 
of  indolence.  Laziness  may  play  its  part,  and, 
moreover,  may  play  it  well,  but  it  cannot  hope  to 
assume  the  leading  role.  What,  then,  is  the  prin- 
cipal actor  ?  Chills.  There  are  men  in  those  bot- 
toms who  were  born  with  a  chill  and  who  have 
never  shaken  it  off. 

Some  time  ago,  while  riding  through  the  Mus- 
cadine neighborhood,  I  came  upon  a  man  sitting 
on  a  log  near  the  roadside.  He  was  sallow  and 
lean,  with  sharp  knob  cheek  bones,  and  with  hair 
like  soiled  cotton.  The  day  was  intensely  hot,  but 
he  sat  in  the  sun,  although  near  him  a  tangled 
grapevine  cast  a  most  inviting  shade. 

*^  Good  morning,'^  said  I,  reining  up. 

«  Hi. » 

"  You  live  here,   I  suppose.'* 

«  Jest  about. » 

**  Why  don't  you  sit  over    there  in  the  shade  ?  *' 

"  Will  when  the  time  comes.  ^' 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  *when  the  time  comes  ?' " 

**  When  the  fever  comes  on.  '^ 

*'  Having  chills,   are  you  ?  " 

«  Sorter. » 

**  How  long  have  you  had  them  ?  * 

^*  Forty-odd  year.'* 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  '* 

'^  Forty-odd  year.** 

**  Been  shaking  all  your  life,  eh  ?  ** 

^*  Only  half  my  life ;  fever  on  the  other  half.  ** 

^*  Why  don't  you  move  away  from  here  ?  ** 


62  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

**  Becaze  I've  lived  here  so  long  that  I'm  afeerd 
I  might  not  have  good  health  nowhar  else.** 

*^  Gracious  alive,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  hav- 
ing chills  all  the  time  is  good  health  ?  ** 

^<  Wall,  health  mout  be  wuss.  Old  Nat  Sarver 
moved  up  in  the  hills  some  time  ago,  was  tuck 
down  putty  soon  with  some  new  sort  of  disease  and 
didn't  live  more'n  a  week.  Don't  b'lieve  in  swap- 
pin'  off  suthin'  that  I'm  used  to  fur  suthin'  I  don't 
know  nothin'  about.  Old-fashioned,  every-day  chills 
air  good  enough  for  me.  Some  folks,  when  they 
git  a  little  up  in  the  world,  mout  want  to  put  on 
airs  with  dyspepsia  and  bronkichus,  and  glanders 
and  catarrh,  but,  as  I  'lowed  to  my  wife,  old  chills 
and  fever  war  high  enough  fur  us  yit  awhile.  A 
chill  may  have  drawbacks,  but  it  has  its  enjoy- 
ments, too.** 

^*  I  don't  see  how  a  chill  can  be  enjoyable.** 

^*  Jest  owin'  to  how  you  air  raised.  When  I 
have  a  chill  it  does  me  a  power  of  good  to  stretch, 
and  I  tell  you  that  a  fust-rate  stretch  when  a  feller 
is  in  the  humor  ain't  to  be  sneered  at.  High-o- 
hoo!**  He  gaped,  threw  out  his  legs,  threw  back 
his  arms  and  stretched  himself  across  the  log. 
^^  It's  sorter  like  the  itch,**  he  went  on.  "The  itch 
has  its  drawbacks,  but  what  a  power  of  good  it 
does  a  man  to  scratch.  Wall,  my  fever  is  comin* 
on  now,  and  I  reckon  I'll  hurry  and  git  up  thar 
under  the  shade.** 

He  moved  into  the  shade  and  stretched  himself 
again. 

"  How  long  will  your  fever  last  ?  **     I  asked. 

"  Wall,  I  don't  know  exackly :  three  hours  mebby.  ** 

«  Then  what  ?  ** 

"  Wall,  I'll  funter  around  awhile,  chop  up  a  lit- 
tle wood  to  get  a  bite  to  eat  with,  swap  a  boss 
with  some  feller,  mebby,  and  then  fix  myself  for 
another  chill.** 

**  Have  you  much  of  a  family  ?  ** 


THE   DISEASE  63 

**  Wife  and  grown  son.  He's  about  the  ablest 
chiller  in  the  country;  w'y  when  he's  got  a  rale 
good  chill  on,  he  can  take  hold  of  a  tree  and  shake 
off  green  persimmons.     Wall,  have  you  got  to  go  ?  '^ 

«  Yes. » 

*  Good-by,  then.  When  you  git  tired  livin'  up 
thar  among  them  new-fangled  diseases,  come  down 
here  whar  everything  is  old-fashioned,  comfortable, 
and  honest.^* 

. —  Opie  Read. 


A    WILLING    INVALID 

THERE  are  ailments  rare  and  diseases  new 
That  please  the  fancy  of  fickle  man; 
That  only  come  to  the  favored  few 

By  some  selective,  exclusive  plan. 
Yet  among  them  all,  as  I  live  and  move, 

I  aver  with  pride  that  I  only  sigh 
For  those  two  things  that  I  crave  and  love  — 
The  coupon  thumb  and  the  ticker  eye. 

The  ticker  eye  is  a  thing  apart. 

To  me  alone  may  it  never  come 
Without  an  escort!     'T would  break  my  heart! 

It's  only  good  with  the  coupon  thumb. 
But  when  combined,  they're  a  goodly  pair; 

This  ailment  mixed  I  would  gladly  try. 
I'd  suffer  and  groan  and  learn  to  bear 

The  coupon  thumb  and  the  ticker  eye. 

Appendicitis  is  getting  trite; 

The  halting  measures  of  gout  I  scorn; 
The  *^  lover's  arm  *>  is  a  modern  blight, 

And  the  "husband  neck^^  is  a  thing  forlorn. 
For  me  neurosis  is  too  morose. 

I  can  spare  all  these,  but  before  I  die 
I  long  for  a  generous,  lifelong  dose 

Of  the  coupon  thumb  and  the  ticker  eye. 

—  Tom  Massofu 


64  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


NO    REFLECTIONS    ON    HIS    STOMACH 

/i^APTAiN  Reid,  of  the  United  States  transport 
^Cr:/  "Sherman'*  has  been  running  between  San 
Francisco  and>  Manila  with  troops  for  over  a  year. 
He  has  had  some  funny  experiences,  and  in  a  letter 
to  his  father,  in  Pittsburg,  lately,  told  the  following 
story  of  an  Irish  recruit  who  was  going  over  to 
join  the  4th  Cavalry.  The  big  trooper  had  got 
outside  the  Farallones  on  her  voyage  west,  when 
she  began  to  feel  the  heave  of  the  Pacific.  Of 
course,  most  of  the  soldiers  became  seasick,  and 
the  majority  of  them  were  hanging  over  the  rail 
in  various  stages  of  dejection.  The  Irish  recruit 
held  out  as  long  as  possible,  but  he  soon  felt  a 
few  premonitory  qualms  and  began  paying  tribute 
to  Neptune,  like  the  others. 

The  captain  in  charge  of  the  craft  was  passing 
along  the  deck,  putting  a  kind  word  here  and  a 
sentence  of  encouragement  there.  He  came  to 
**Mike,**  and,  stopping  beside  him,   said: 

"  You're  pretty  bad,  my  lad.  '* 

"  Oi  am,  **  said  the  soldier,  trying  to  stand  at 
attention  and  salute  his  superior,  "  an'  Oi  suppose 
th'  docthor  can't  do  annythin'  fur  'me  ?  '* 

*  I'm  afraid  not.  Poor  fellow,  you  have  a  weak 
stomach.  '* 

The  Irishman  bristled  up  at  this  in  indignation. 

**Oi  don't  know  about  thot,'*  he  gasped.  "  Oi 
notice  Oi'm  throwin'  as  far  as  anny  av  th'  rest  av 
thim. » 


AN   EXAMPLE 

*^  Electricity  in  the  atmosphere  affects  your 
system,*'  said  the  scientific  physician. 

"Yes,**  said  the  patient,  who  had  paid  $10  for 
two  visits,  *  I  agree  with  you  there  are  times  when 
one  feels  overcharged.*' 


THE   DISEASE  65 


CONTAGIOUS 

DT  WAS  on  a  crowded  suburban  car  out  of  Wash- 
ington, one  day  last  summer,  that  a  middle- 
aged  woman,  carrying  a  fretful  baby,  was  forced 
to  squeeze  herself  into  a  small  space  left  vacant 
beside  a  dapper  youth  of  possibly  twenty  years. 
His  countenance  had  all  the  expression  of  his  im- 
maculate white  suit,  except  for  a  look  of  disgust 
which  he  assumed  as  the  baby,  in  its  restlessness, 
would  touch  him  with  foot  or  hand.  Finally  he 
turned  toward  the  woman,  and  inquired,  in  a  tone 
quite  audible  to  those  near  him. 

*Ah,  beg  pawdon,  madam,  but  has  this  child  any- 
thing —  ah  —  contagious  ?  '* 

The  nurse  was  a  motherly-looking  woman. 
Glancing  compassionately  at  him  through  her  gold- 
rimmed  spectacles,  she  remarked,  meditatively. 

^^  Well,  now,  I  don't  know,  young  man ;  but — 
ah  —  it  might  be  to  you.     She's  teething  !  ^^ 


GRIP 

/i^OLD  that  makes  you  rear  and  rip; 
v:=5'         Quinine  with  a  fiery  nip; 
Boiling  drinks  to  sip  and  sip ; 
Lemonade  and  higli-spiced  flip, 
Back  that  aches  from  neck  to  hip; 
Swollen  nose  and  puffy  lip ; 
Head  that  seems  to  go  ca-zipp ! 
Pulse  that  shows  a  lively  clip ; 
Strength  that  swift  away  doth  slip; 
Feet  that  stumble,  stub,   and  trip, 
Knees  that  toward  each  other  dip; 
Gait  that  rolls  as  if  on  ship; 
Tongue  that's  furry  to  the  tip; 
Still  more  quinine,   'nother  nip  — 
It's  the  grip! 

D.L.H.— 5 


66  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


THE   GOUT 

WHEN  Munden  at  his  house  sometime  ago, 
Warned  a  large  party  from  his  gouty  toe, 
A  heartless  fopling  drawled  a  long  <'  Dear  me ! 
I  can't  imagine  what  the  gout  can  be.* 
«  Then,  boy !  *  said  Joe,  with  pain-distorted   phiz 
<^  I'll  give  you  some  idea  what  it  is :  — 
Suppose  your  foot  fast  in  a  blacksmith's  vice, 
Then  turn  the  screw,  perhaps  just  once  or  twice, 
Till  you  the  height  of  agony  procure. 
That  human  nature's  able  to  endure, — 
The  pain  of  rheumatism,  you  thus  find    out:  — 
Give  it  another  turn,  and  that's  the  gout.» 


HE  WAS  CAREFUL 

GOOD  many  years  ago  I,  with  many  others,  was 
waiting  in  a  certain  postoffice  for  the  mail 
to  be  distributed.  One  of  the  group  spoke  of  the 
dreadful  disease  of  smallpox  in  a  certain  family  in 
Newport.  *^  How  do  you  know,  John,  that  those 
people  have  it?"  ^^Oh,  I  get  letters  from  them; 
awful  disease.  *  ^*  But  do  you  know,  John,  that 
there  is  danger  in  getting  letters  from  such  sources? 
There  is  danger  of  contagion;  you  should  be  very 
careful.  *  **  Gad,  man,  I  take  good  care  of  that ;  I 
never  answer  any  of  them.* 


LIKE   FATHER,  LIKE  SON 

Madame  Paine. —  "Don't  you  think  Miss  Grace 
is  a  very  bright  little  lady?* 

Dr.  Paine  (dryly). — "Yes;  often  too  bright.  I 
sometimes  wonder  if  her  humor  does  not  amount 
to  a  disease.* 

M.  D.y  Jr.  (eight  years  old) — "Perhaps  she  has 
Bright's  disease,  papa.* 


THE   DISEASE  67 


HIS  VERSION 

iY  HECK,  Maw!*  ejaculated  Lab  Juckett,  a 
youthful  and  gap-mouthed  young  agricul- 
turalist, upon  his  return  from  an  afternoon's  visit 
to  the  county  seat;  ^^  thar's  a  smallpox  scare  in 
town !  * 

*  Land  o'  Goodness !  *  exclaimed  his  mother. 
**  Are  they  plumb-shore  it's  smallpox,  Labby?  * 

"  Wa-al,  some  swears  it's  smallpox,  an'  others 
says  it  hain't  nothin'  but  celluloid;  but,  anyhow, 
they're    goin'    to    canteen    the    whole    town    right 


away 


i» 


IT'S    OFTEN    FATAL 

Full  many  a  man,  both  young  and  old, 

Is  sent  to  his  sarcophagus, 
By  pouring  water  icy  cold, 

Adown  his  warm  cesophagus. 


A  BAD   CASE 

First  Boy  —  *  Say,  is  your  uncle  bad  ?  * 
Second  Ditto— "^^  Bad  ?     Awful  bad!     The  doctor 
says  he's  got  shoebuckles  on  his  lungs !  * 


There  was  a  crowd  on  the  street-comer  below 
a  sky-scraper  in  course  of  erection.  A  painter  had 
let  his  pot  of  green  paint  fall,  and  the  emerald 
liquid  now  streaked  the  sidewalk  gorgeously.  About 
this  a  crowd  of  idlers  had  gathered.  A  new- 
comer, trying  to  push  his  way  to  the  unseen  mag- 
net of  attention,  met  a  man  equally  eager  to  get 
out,  and  accosted  him:  << What's  it  all  about? * 
<< Nothing  much,"  said  the  other;  <<just  an  Irish- 
man had  a  hemorrhage.'^ 


68  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

HE  STANDS  CORRECTED 

Dr.  Feesick  —  **Yes;  but  gout  is  very  insidious. 
It  kills  a  man  inch  by  inch.^^ 

Mr.  Portzvein — ^*Wow!  Don't  you  mean  foot 
by  foot  ?  » 


AN   OPINION 


Friend  —  "I  suppose  a  great  many  women  suffer 
from  hysteria  ?  *^ 

Doctor  — "  Yes ;  but  I  suspect  that  some  rather 
enjoy  it.** 


Here  lies  buried  in  this  tomb 

A  constant  sufferer  from  salt-rheum, 

Which  finally  in  truth  did  pass 

To  spotted  erysipelas  ; 

A  husband  brave,   a  father  true, 

Here  he  lies,  and  so  must  you. 

—Old  Epitaph. 


A  SICK  man  was  telling  his  symptoms  —  which 
appeared  to  himself,  of  course,  dreadful  —  to  a 
medical  friend,  who,  at  each  new  item  of  the  dis- 
order, exclaimed,  "  Charming !  Delightful !  Pray  go 
on!**  and,  when  he  had  finished,  the  doctor  said, 
with  the  utmost  pleasure,  "  Do  you  know,  my  dear 
sir,  you  have  got  a  complaint  which  has  been  for 
some  time  supposed  to  be  extinct?  ** 


Patient — "Und  ven    I  gets  me    dot   Ceety    Hall 

to  my  head  vos  turn  so  deezy  dot  I  don't  know ** 

Doctor  (interrupting)  —  "  Vertigo  —  Vertigo !  ** 
Patient — *^Vere  to  go  ?      I   know   shust  vere   to 
go  but  vich  vay  to  turn!    dots  de  drooble.** 


THE   DISEASE  6g 

Doctor  Peptiis —"^^  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Lafferty; 
what  can  I  do  for  you  this  morning?** 

Mrs.  Lafferty  —  « '  Dade  an'  Oi'm  in  a  bad  way, 
docther.  There's  a  haynius  thumpin'  at  me  chist, 
an'  the  thaste  in  me  mout'  is  that  quare  Oi  can 
hardly  rec?konize  mesilf,  at  all,  at  all." 

j)r,  P. «Um  —  yes.     Have  you  taken  anything 

lately  that  disagreed  with  you?** 

Mrs.  L. —  "Shame  on  me  for  havin'  to  own  it, 
docther,  but  Oi  have;  I  tuk  a  whoit  underskurt 
out  of  Mrs.  Duffy's  wash,  an'  it  dishagreed  wid  me 
moightily  when  the  joodge  sintinced  me  to  foive 
days  for  it,  so  it  did.*^ 

"I'm  trying  to  get  some  information  about  a 
friend  of  mine  named  Fox,  who  came  out  here,** 
said  the  stranger  from  the  east.  "They  tell  me 
he  died  of  some  throat  trouble.** 

«I  guess  that's  about  right,**  replied  the  cow- 
boy. 

"What  was  it— bronchitis!  ** 

"Bronkitis?  That's  a  new  one  on  me,  but  I 
reckon  I  see  the  connection.      He  stole  a  bronco.** 


Visitor  —  "I  am  grieved  to  hear  of  your  mis- 
tress's illness.  Nothing  serious  —  no  great  cause 
for  alarm,   I  trust  ?  ** 

The  New  French  Maid —  "  No,  monsieur,  nozzing 
beeg,  nozzing  grande.  Something  —  what  you  call 
leetle,  petite.  What  zey  call  ze  leetle  —  small  — 
smallpox.  ** 

A  LITTLE  fellow  in  one  of  our  public  schools 
returned  home  early  one  morning  last  week,  tell- 
ing his  mother  there  would  be  no  school  that  day, 
as  the  teacher  was  sick  with  "illustrated  sore 
throat.** 


7©  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Mamma — ^*  What  is  Willie  crying  about?* 
Bridget — "  Shure,    ma'am,    he     wanted     to     go 

across  the  street  to  Tommy  Green's." 

Mamma — "Well,  why  didn't  you  let  him  go?" 
Bridget  — "  They  were   havin'  charades,  he  said, 

ma'am,  and    I  wasn't  shure  as  he'd  had  'em   yet." 


Kranich — *I  vas  be  sufferin'  mit  insomnia,  dog- 
tor." 

X)^^/^r  —  «  Indeed!" 

Kranich — "Yah.  Vhen  I  vas  be  asleeb,  I  vas 
snore  so  loud  dot  I  vas  geeb  mineself  avake  der 
whole  niofhd. " 


"  So  YOU  suffer  from  insomnia,  do  you  ?"  said 
the  physician,  after  the  patient  had  indicated  his 
ailment. 

"  I  do,  doctor.  The  only  part  of  me  that  goes 
to  sleep  readily  is  my  feet." 


A  MAN  who  stuttered  badly  went  to  consult  a 
specialist  about  his  affliction.  The  expert  asked  : 
"  Do  you  stutter  all  the  time  ? "  "  N-n-n-  no, "  re- 
plied the  sufferer  ;  "  I  s-s-stut-t-t-t-  ter  only  when  I 
t-t-t-  talk. » 


A  MAN  seeing  a  child  playing  with  a  chisel,  in- 
formed its  mother  that  her  son  had  the  chisel. 
"Mercy  on  me,"  said  the  woman,  "I  knew  some- 
thing was  the  inatter,  for  the  child's  been  ailing 
for  some  time." 


Sympathetic  Steward — "Lights  bother  ye,  mum?" 
Very  Sick  Passenger—  «  N-no.     I   think  it's   my 
liver. " 


THE  DISEASE  71 

**  Doctor,  don't  you  think  whiskey  is  the  best 
thing  for  this  cold  of  mine  ?  ^^ 

"  If  whiskey  were  any  good  the  cold  would  never 
have  entered  your  system.^* 


An  Irishman,  speaking  of  a  spell  of  sickness, 
said:  "I  laid  spachless  for  six  weeks,  in  the  long 
month  of  August,  and  all  my  cry  was  wather, 
wather.  *' 


THE    PATIENT 


We  -will  be  brave,  Puffe,  now  we  have  the  medicine. 

— Ben  Jonson,  ^<  The  Alchemist,*^  ii. 


THREE    MEN    IN    A    BOAT 

( To  say  nothing  of  the  dog) 

Chapter  I 

Three  Invalids  —  Sufferings  of  George  and  Harris  —  A 
Victim  to  One  Hundred  and  Seven  Fatal  Maladies  — 
Useful  Prescriptions  —  Cure  for  Liver  Complaint  in 
Children — We  Agree  That  We  Are  Overworked,  and 
Need  Rest  —  A  Week  on  the  Rolling  Deep  —  George 
Suggests  the  River  —  Montmorency  Lodges  an  Objec- 
tion—  Original  Motion  Carried  by  Majority  of  Three 
to  One. 


HERE  were  four  of  us  —  George,  and 
William  Samuel  Harris,  and  myself, 
and  Montmorency.  We  were  sitting 
in  my  room,  smoking  and  talking 
about  how  bad  we  were — bad  from 
a  medical  point  of  view  I  mean,  of  course. 

We  were  all  feeling  seedy,  and  we  were  getting 
quite  nervous  about  it.  Harris  said  he  felt  such 
extraordinary  fits  of  giddiness  come  over  him  at 
times,  that  he  hardly  knew  what  he  was  doing;  and 
then  George  said  he  had  fits  of  giddiness  too,  and 
hardly  knew  what  he  was  doing.  With  me,  it  was 
my  liver  that  was  out  of  order.     I  knew  it  was  my 

(73) 


THE   PATIENT  73 

liver  that  was  out  of  order,  because  I  had  just  been 
reading  a  patent  liver-pill  circular,  in  which  were 
detailed  the  various  symptoms  by  which  a  man 
could  tell  when  his  liver  was  out  of  order.  I  had 
them  all. 

It  is  a  most  extraordinary  thing,  but  I  never 
read  a  patent  medicine  advertisement  without  be- 
ing impelled  to  the  conclusion  that  I  am  suffering 
from  the  particular  disease  therein  dealt  with  in  its 
most  virulent  form.  The  diagnosis  seems  in  every 
case  to  correspond  exactly  with  all  the  sensations 
that  I  have  ever  felt. 

I  remember  going  to  the  British  Museum  one 
day  to  read  up  the  treatment  for  some  slight  ail- 
ment of  which  I  had  a  touch  —  hay  fever,  I  fancy 
it  was.  I  got  down  the  book,  and  read  all  I  came 
to  read;  and  then,  in  an  unthinking  moment,  I 
idly  turned  the  leaves,  and  began  to  idolently  study 
diseases  generally.  I  forgot  which  was  the  first 
distemper  I  plunged  into  —  some  fearful,  devas- 
tating scourge,  I  know — and,  before  I  glanced  half 
way  down  the  list  of  *  premonitory  symptoms,  '^  it 
was  borne  in  upon  me  that  I  had  fairly  got  it. 

I  sat  for  awhile,  frozen  with  horror;  and  then, 
in  the  listlessness  of  despair,  I  again  turned  over 
the  pages.  I  came  to  typhoid  fever  —  read  the 
symptoms  —  discovered  that  I  had  typhoid  fever, 
must  have  had  it  for  months  —  without  knowing  it 

—  wondered  what  else  I  got;  turned  up  St.  Vitus' 
dance  —  found,  as  I    expected,  that  I  had    that  too 

—  began  to  get  interested  in  my  case,  and  deter- 
mined to  sift  it  to  the  bottom,  and  so  started  al- 
phabetically —  read  up  ague,  and  learned  that  I  was 
sickening  for  it,  and  that  the  acute  stage  would 
commence  in  about  another  fortnight.  Bright's  dis- 
ease, I  was  relieved  to  find,  I  had  only  in  a  modi- 
fied form,  and,  so  far  as  that  was  concerned,  I 
might  live  for  years.  Cholera  I  had,  with  severe 
complications;  and  diptheria  I  seemed  to  have  been 


74  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

born  with.  I  plodded  conscientiously  through  the 
twenty-six  letters,  and  the  only  malady  I  could  con- 
clude I  had  not  got  was  house-maid's  knee. 

I  felt  rather  hurt  about  this  at  first;  it  seemed 
somehow  to  be  a  sort  of  slight.  Why  hadn't  I  got 
house-maid's  knee  ?  Why  this  invidious  reservation  ? 
After  awhile,  however,  less  grasping  feelings  pre- 
vailed. I  reflected  that  I  had  every  other  known 
malady  in  the  pharmacology,  and  I  grew  less  selfish, 
and  determined  to  do  without  house-maid's  knee. 
Gout,  in  its  malignant  stage,  it  would  appear,  had 
seized  me  without  my  being  aware  of  it;  and  zy- 
mosis, I  had  evidently  been  suffering  with  from  boy- 
hood. There  were  no  more  diseases  after  zymosis, 
so  I  concluded  there  was  nothing  else  the  matter 
with  me. 

I  sat  and  pondered.  I  thought  what  an  inter- 
esting case  I  must  be  from  a  medical  point  of  view, 
what  an  acquisition  I  should  be  to  a  class !  Students 
would  have  no  need  to  "  walk  the  hospitals,  '^  if  they 
had  me.  I  was  a  hospital  myself.  All  they  need  do 
would  be  to  walk  round  me,  and,  after  that,  take 
their  diploma. 

Then  I  wondered  how  long  I  had  to  live.  I  tried 
to  examine  myself.  I  felt  my  pulse.  I  could  not  at 
first  feel  any  pulse  at  all.  Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  it 
seemed  to  start  off.  I  pulled  out  my  watch  and 
timed  it.  I  made  it  a  hundred  and  forty-seven  to 
the  minute.  I  tried  to  feel  my  heart.  It  had  stopped 
beating.  I  have  since  been  induced  to  come  to  the 
opinion  that  it  must  have  been  there  all  the  time, 
and  must  have  been  beating,  but  I  cannot  account 
for  it.  I  patted  myself  all  over  my  front,  from  what 
I  call  my  waist  up  to  my  head,  and  I  went  a  bit 
round  each  side,  and  a  little  way  up  the  back.  But 
I  could  not  feel  or  hear  anything.  I  tried  to  look 
at  my  tongue.  I  stuck  it  out  as  far  as  ever  it  would 
go,  and  shut  one  eye,  and  tried  to  examine  it  with 
the  other.     I  could  only  see  the  tip,   and  the  only 


THE   PATIENT 


75 


thing  I  could  gain  from  that  was  to  feel  more  certain 
than  before  that  I  had  scarlet  fever. 

I  had  walked  into  that  reading-room  a  happy, 
healthy  man.     I  crawled  out  a  decrepit  wreck. 

I  went  to  my  medical  man.  He  is  an  old  chum 
of  mine,  and  feels  my  pulse,  and  looks  at  my  tongue, 
and  talks  about  the  weather,  all  for  nothing,  when 
I  fancy  I'm  ill ;  so  I  thought  I  would  do  him  a  good 
turn  by  going  to  him  now.  «  What  a  doctor  wants,  ^^ 
I  said,  <<  is  practice.  He  shall  have  me.  He  will 
get  more  practice  out  of  me  than  out  of  seventeen 
hundred  of  your  ordinary,  commonplace  patients, 
with  only  one  or  two  diseases  each.'^ 

So  I  went  straight  up  and  saw  him,  and  he  said : 
**  Well,  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  '* 
I  said :  «  I  will  not  take  up  your  time,  dear  boy, 
with  telling  you  what  is  the  matter  with  me.  Life 
is  brief,  and  you  might  pass  before  I  had  finished. 
But  I  will  tell  you  what  is  7iot  the  matter  with  me. 
I  have  not  got  house-maid's  knee.  Why  I  have  not 
got  house-maid's  knee,  I  cannot  tell  you;  but  the 
fact  '  remains  that  I  have  not  got  it.  Everything 
else,  however,  I  have  got.^^ 

And  I  told  him  how  I  came  to  discover  it  all. 
Then  he  opened  me  and  looked  down  me,  and 
clutched  hold  of  my  wrist,  and  then  he  hit  me  over 
the  chest  when  I  wasn't  expecting  it  —  a  cowardly 
thing  to  do,  I  call  it  — and  immediately  afterward 
butted  me  with  the  side  of  his  head.  After  that,  he 
sat  down  and  wrote  out  a  prescription,  and  folded  it 
up  and  gave  it  to  me,  and  I  put  it  in  my  pocket  and 
went  out. 

I  did  not  open  it.  I  took  it  to  the  nearest  chem- 
ist's, and  handed  it  in.  The  man  read  it,  and  then 
handed  it  back. 

He  said  he  didn't  keep  it. 
I  said :  <^  You  are  a  chemist  ?  * 
He  said:  «  I  am  a  chemist.     If  I  was  a  co-opera- 
tive store  and  family  hotel   combined,    I  might  be 


76  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

able  to  oblige  you.     Being  only  a  chemist  hampers 
me. '^ 

I  read  the  prescription.     It  ran:  — 

«  I  lb.  beefsteak,  with 
I  pt.  bitter  beer 

every  6  hours. 
I  ten-mile  walk  every  morning. 
I  bed  at  11  sharp  every  night. 
And   don't   stuff  up   your  head  with   things   you   don't 
understand.  ^* 

I  followed  the  directions,  with  the  happy  re- 
sult—  speaking  for  myself  —  that  my  life  was  pre- 
served, and  is  still  going  on. 

In  the  present  instance,  going  back  to  the 
liver-pill  circular,  I  had  the  symptoms,  beyond  all 
mistake,  the  chief  among  them  being  "a  general 
disinclination  to  work  of  any  kind.** 

What  I  siiffer  in  that  way  no  tongue  can  tell. 
From  my  earliest  infancy  I  have  been  a  martyr 
to  it.  As  a  boy,  the  disease  hardly  ever  left  me 
for  a  day.  They  did  not  know,  then,  that  it  was 
my  liver.  Medical  science  was  in  a  far  less  ad- 
vanced state  than  now,  and  they  used  to  put  it 
down  to  laziness. 

^'  Why,  you  skulking  little  devil,  you,  '*  they 
would  say,  ^'  get  up  and  do  something  for  your 
living,  can't  you?** — not  knowing,  of  course,  that 
I  was   ill. 

And  they  didn't  give  me  pills;  they  gave  me 
clumps  on  the  side  of  the  head.  And,  strange  as 
it  may  appear,  those  clumps  on  the  head  often 
cured  me  —  for  the  time  being.  I  have  known 
one  clump  on  the  head  to  have  more  effect  upon 
my  liver,  and  made  me  feel  more  anxious  to  go 
straight  away  then  and  there,  and  do  what  was 
wanted  to  be  done,  without  further  loss  of  time, 
than  a  whole  box  of  pills   does  now. 


THE   PATIENT 


77 


You  know,  it  often  is  so — those  simple,  old- 
fashioned  remedies  are  sometimes  more  efficacious 
than  all  the  dispensary  stuff. 

We  sat  there  for  half  an  hour,  describing  to 
each  other  our  maladies.  I  explained  to  George 
and  William  Harris  how  I  felt  when  I  got  up  in 
the  morning,  and  William  Harris  told  us  how  he 
felt  when  he  went  to  bed;  and  George  stood 
on  the  hearth-rug,  and  gave  us  a  clever  and  pow- 
erful piece  of  acting,  illustrative  of  how  he  felt 
in  the  night. 

George  fancies  he  is  ill  ;  but  there's  never  any- 
thing really  the   matter  with  him,  5'^ou  know. 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Poppets  knocked  at  the  door 
to  know  if  we  were  ready  for  supper.  We  smiled 
sadly  at  one  another,  and  said  we  supposed  we 
had  better  try  to  swallow  a  bit.  Harris  said  a  lit- 
tle something  in  one's  stomach  often  kept  the  dis- 
ease in  check  ;  and  Mrs.  Poppets  brought  the 
tray  in,  and  we  drew  up  to  the  table,  and  toyed 
with  a  little  steak  and  onions,  and  some  rhubarb 
tart. 

I  must  have  been  very  weak  at  the  time,  be- 
cause I  know,  after  the  first  half  hour  or  so,  I 
seemed  to  take  no  interest  whatever  in  my  food  — 
an  unusual  thing  for  me  —  and  I  didn't  want  any 
cheese. 

This  duty  done,  we  refilled  our  glasses,  lighted 
our  pipes,  and  resumed  the  discussion  upon  our 
state  of  health.  What  it  was  that  was  actually  the 
matter  with  us,  we  none  of  us  could  be  sure  of  ; 
but  the  unanimous  opinion  was  that  it  —  whatever 
it  was  —  had  been  brought  on  by  overwork. 

**What  we  want  is  rest,**  said  Harris. 

*  Rest  and  a  complete  change,  **  said  George. 
"The  overstrain  upon  our  brains  has  produced  a 
general  depression  throughout  the  system.  Change 
of  scene,  and  absence  of  the  necessity  for  thought, 
will  restore  the  mental  equilibrium." 


78  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE   HOUR 

George  has  a  cousin,  who  is  usually  described 
in  the  charge-sheet  as  a  medical  student,  so  that 
he  naturally  has  a  somewhat  family-physicianary 
way  of  putting  things. 

I  agreed  with  George,  and  suggested  that  we 
should  seek  some  retired  and  Old- World  spot,  far 
from  the  maddening  crowd,  and  dream  away  a 
sunny  week  among  its  drowsy  lanes  —  some  half- 
forgotten  nook,  hidden  away  by  the  fairies,  out  of 
reach  of  the  noisy  world  —  some  quaint-perched 
eyrie  on  the  cliffs  of  Time,  from  whence  the  surg- 
ing waves  of  the  nineteenth  century  would  sound 
far  and  faint. 

Harris  said  he  thought  it  would  be  humpy.  He 
said  he  knew  the  sort  of  place  I  meant  ;  where 
everybody  went  to  bed  at  eight  o'clock,  and  you 
wouldn't  get  a  **  Referee  *  for  love  nor  money,  and 
had  to  walk  ten  miles  to  get  your  baccy. 

"  No,^^  said  Harris,  ^*  if  you  want  rest  and  change, 
you  can't  beat  a  sea  trip.*^ 

I  objected  to  the  sea  trip  strongly.  A  sea  trip 
does  you  good  when  you  are  going  to  have  a  couple 
of  months  of  it,  but  for  a  week  it  is  wicked. 

You  start  on  Monday  with  the  idea  planted  in 
your  bosom  that  you  are  going  to  enjoy  yourself. 
You  wave  an  airy  adieu  to  the  boys  on  shore,  light 
your  biggest  pipe,  and  swagger  about  the  deck  as 
if  you  were  Captain  Cook,  Sir  Francis  Drake,  and 
Christopher  Columbus  all  rolled  into  one.  On 
Tuesday,  you  wish  you  hadn't  come.  On  Wednes- 
day, Thursday,  and  Friday,  you  wish  you  were  dead. 
On  Saturday  you  are  able  to  swallow  a  little  beef 
tea,  and  to  sit  up  on  deck  and  answer  with  a  wan, 
sweet  smile  when  kind-hearted  people  ask  you 
how  you  feel  now.  On  Sunday,  you  begin  to  walk 
about  again,  and  take  solid  food.  And  on  Monday 
morning,  as,  with  your  bag  and  umbrella  in  your 
hand,  you  stand  by  the  gimwale,  waiting  to  step 
ashore,  you  begin  to  thoroughly  like  it. 


THE   PATIENT 


79 


I  remember  my  brother-in-law  going-  for  a  short 
sea  trip  once,  for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  He 
took  a  return  berth  from  London  to  Liverpool; 
and  when  he  got  to  Liverpool  the  only  thing  he 
was  anxious  about  was  to  sell  that  return  ticket. 

It  was  offered  round  the  town  at  a  tremendous 
reduction,  so  I  am  told;  and  was  eventually  sold 
for  eighteen  pence  to  a  bilious  looking  youth  who 
had  just  been  advised  by  his  medical  man  to  go  to 
the  seaside  and  take  exercise. 

*  Seaside !  ^*  said  my  brother-in-law,  pressing  the 
ticket  affectionately  into  his  hand ;  «  why  you'll  have 
enough  to  last  you  a  lifetime;  and  as  for  exercise! 
why,  you'll  get  more  exercise  sitting  down  on  that 
ship,  than  you  would  turning  somersaults  on  dry 
land.» 

He  himself  —  my  brother-in-law  —  came  back  by 
train.  He  said  the  Northwestern  Railway  was 
healthy  enough  for  him. 

Another  fellow  I  knew  went  for  a  week's  voy- 
age round  the  coast,  and  before  they  started,  the 
steward  came  to  him  to  ask  whether  he  would  pay 
for  each  meal  as  he  had  it,  or  arrange  beforehand 
for  the  whole  series. 

The  steward  recommended  the  latter  course,  as 
it  would  come  so  much  cheaper.  He  said  they 
would  do  him  for  the  whole  week  at  two  pounds 
five.  He  said  for  breakfast  there  would  be  fish, 
followed  by  a  grill.  Lunch  was  at  one,  and  con- 
sisted of  four  courses.  Dinner  at  six  —  soup,  fish, 
entree,  joint,  poultry,  salad,  sweets,  cheese,  and 
dessert.     And  a  light  meat  supper  at  ten. 

My  friend  thought  he  would  close  on  the  two- 
pound-five  job  (he  is  a  hearty  eater),  and  did  so. 

Lunch  came  just  as  they  were  off  Sheerness. 
He  didn't  feel  so  hungry  as  he  thought  he  should, 
and  so  contented  himself  with  a  bit  of  boiled  beef 
and  some  strawberries  and  cream.    He  pondered  a 


8o  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

good  deal  during  the  afternoon,  and  at  one  time  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  been  eating  nothing  but 
boiled  beef  for  weeks,  and  at  other  times  it  seemed 
that  he  must  have  been  living  on  strawberries  and 
cream  for  years. 

Neither  the  beef  nor  the  strawberries  and  cream 
seemed  happy,  either  —  seemed  discontented  like. 

At  six,  they  came  and  told  him  dinner  was- 
ready.  The  announcement  aroused  no  enthusiasm 
within  him,  but  he  felt  that  there  was  some  of  that 
two-pound-five  to  be  worked  off,  and  he  held  on  to 
ropes  and  things  and  went  down.  A  pleasant  odor 
of  onions  and  hot  ham,  mingled  with  fried  fish  and 
greens  greeted  him  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder; 
and  then  the  steward  came  up  with  an  oily  smile, 
and  said: 

*^What  can  I  get  you,  sir?'* 

^*  Get  me  out  of  this,**  was  the  feeble  reply. 

And  they  ran  him  up  quick,  and  propped  him 
over  to  leeward  and  left  him. 

For  the  next  four  days  he  lived  a  simple  and 
blameless  life  on  thin  captain's  biscuit  (I  mean 
that  the  biscuits  were  thin,  not  the  captain)  and 
soda  water;  but  toward  Saturday  he  got  uppish 
and  went  in  for  weak  tea  and  dry  toast,  and  on 
Monday  he  was  gorging  himself  on  chicken  broth. 
He  left  the  ship  on  Tuesday,  and  as  it  steamed 
away  from  the  landing  stage,  he  gazed  after  it 
regretfully. 

*  There  she  goes,  **  he  said,  "  there  she  goes,  with 
two  pounds'  worth  of  food  on  board  that  belongs 
to  me,  and  that  I  haven't  had.** 

He  said  that  if  they  had  given  him  another  day 
he  thought  he  could  have  put  it  straight. 

So  I  set  my  face  against  the  sea  trip.  Not,  as 
I  explained,  upon  my  own  account.  I  was  never 
queer.  But  I  was  afraid  for  George.  George  said 
he   should  be    all  right,  and  would   rather   like  it, 


THE  PATIENT  8 1 

but  he  would  advise  Harris  and  me  not  to  think  of 
it,  as  he  felt  sure  we  should  both  be  ill.  Harris 
said  that,  to  himself,  it  was  always  a  mystery  how 
people  managed  to  get  sick  at  sea  —  said  he  thought 
people  must  do  it  on  purpose,  from  affectation  — 
said  he  had  often  wished  to  be,  but  had  never  been 
able. 

Then  he  told  us  anecdotes  of  how  he  had  gone 
across  the  Channel  when  it  was  so  rough  that  the 
passengers  had  to  be  tied  into  their  berths,  and  he 
and  the  captain  were  the  only  two  living  souls  on 
board  who  were  not  ill.  Sometimes  it  was  he  and 
the  second  mate  who  were  not  ill ;  but  it  was  gen- 
erally he  and  the  other  man.  If  not  he  and  an- 
other man,  then  it  was  he  by  himself. 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  but  nobody  is  ever  seasick 
—  on  land.  At  sea  you  come  across  plenty  of  peo- 
ple very  bad  indeed,  whole  boat-loads  of  them ;  but 
I  never  met  a  man  yet,  on  land,  who  had  ever 
known  at  all  what  it  was  to  be  seasick.  Where 
the  thousands  upon  thousands  of  bad  sailors  that 
swarm  in  every  ship  hide  themselves  when  they 
are  on  land  is  a  mystery. 

If  most  men  were  like  a  fellow  I  saw  on  the 
Yarmouth  boat  one  day,  I  could  account  for  the 
seeming  enigma  easily  enough.  It  was  just  off 
Southend  Pier,  I  recollect,  and  he  was  leaning-out 
through  one  of  the  portholes  in  a  very  dangerous 
position.     I  went  up  to  him  to  try  to  save  him. 

<<Hi!  come  further  in,**  I  said,  shaking  him  by 
the  shoulder.     ^^ You'll  be  overboard.** 

"Oh,  my!  I  wish  I  was,**  was  the  only  answer 
I  could  get;   and  there  I  had  to  leave  him. 

Three  weeks  afterward  I  met  him  in  the  coffee- 
room  of  a  Bath  hotel,  talking  about  his  voyages, 
and  explaining,  with  enthusiasm,  how  he  loved  the 
sea. 

*  Good  sailor!**  he  replied,  in  answer  to  a  mild 
young   man's    envious   query ;    "  well,  I    did   feel   a 

P.L.H. — 6 


82  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

little  queer  once,  I  confess.     It  was  off  Cape  Horn. 
The  vessel  was  wrecked  the  next  morning." 

I  said :  *^  Weren't  you  a  little  shaky  by  Southend 
Pier  one  day,  and  wanted  to  be  thrown  over-board?  '* 

<<  Southend  Pier !  "  he  replied,  with  a  puzzled 
expression. 

*Yes;  going  down  to  Yarmouth,  last  Friday 
three  weeks." 

**0h,  ah  —  yes,"  he  answered,  brightening  up; 
*  I  remember  now.  I  did  have  a  headache  that 
afternoon.  It  was  the  pickles,  you  know.  They 
were  the  most  disgraceful  pickles  I  ever  tasted  in 
a  respectable  boat.     Did  you  have  any? " 

For  myself,  I  have  discovered  an  excellent  pre- 
ventive against  seasickness,  in  balancing  myself. 
You  stand  in  the  centre  of  the  deck,  and  as  the 
ship  heaves  and  pitches,  you  move  your  body 
about,  so  as  to  keep  it  always  straight.  When  the 
front  of  the  ship  rises,  you  lean  forward,  till  the 
deck  almost  touches  your  nose;  and  when  its  back 
end  gets  up,  you  lean  backward.  This  is  all  very 
well  for  an  hour  or  two;  but  you  can't  balance 
yourself  for  a  week. 

George  said :    "  Let's  go  up  the  river. " 

He  said  we  should  have  fresh  air,  exercise,  and 
quiet;  the  constant  change  of  scene  would  occupy 
our  minds  (including  what  there  was  of  Harris's) ; 
and  the  hard  work  would  give  us  a  good  appetite 
and  make  us  sleep  well. 

Harris  said  he  didn't  think  George  ought  to  do 
anything  that  would  have  a  tendency  to  make  him 
sleepier  than  he  always  was,  as  it  might  be  dan- 
gerous. He  said  he  didn't  very  well  understand 
how  George  was  going  to  sleep  any  more  than  he 
did  now,  seeing  that  there  were  only  twenty-four 
hours  in  each  day,  summer  and  winter  alike;  but 
thought  that  if  he  did  sleep  any  more,  he  might 
just  as  well  be  dead,  and  so  save  his  board  and 
lodging. 


THE   PATIENT  83 

Harris  said,  however,  that  the  river  would  suit 
him  to  a  «T.»  I  don't  know  what  a  «T  »  is  (ex- 
cept a  sixpenny  one,  which  includes  bread-and-but- 
ter and  0.3^^  ad  lib.,  and  is  cheap  at  the  price,  if 
you  haven't  had  any  dinner).  It  seems  to  suit 
everybody,  however,  which  is  greatly  to  its  credit. 

It  suited  me  to  a  "  T  '*  too,  and  Harris  and  I 
both  said  it  was  a  good  idea  of  George's;  and  we 
said  it  in  a  tone  that  seemed  to  somehow  imply 
that  we  were  surprised  that  George  should  have 
come  out  so  sensible. 

The  only  one  who  was  not  struck  with  the  sug- 
gestion was  Montmorency.  He  never  did  care  for 
the  river,  did  Montmorency. 

*^  It's  all  very  well  for  you  fellows,  '^  he  says ; 
"  you  like  it,  but  /  don't.  There's  nothing  for  me 
to  do.  Scenery  is  not  in  my  line,  and  I  don't 
smoke.  If  I  see  a  rat,  you  won't  stop;  and  if  I  go 
to  sleep,  you  get  fooling  about  with  the  boat,  and 
slop  me  overboard.  If  you  ask  me,  I  call  the 
whole  thing  bally  foolishness.'^ 

We  were  three  to  one,  however,  and  the  motion 

was  carried. 

—  ^Jerome  K.  Jerome. 


SATISFACTORY  EXPLANATION 

He  (who  has  been  refused  a  kiss)  — "  It  used  to 
be  an  easy  matter  to  kiss  you.  What  has  come 
over  you  ?  '* 

She — "  My  doctor  told  me  I  must  take  more 
exercise.  '^ 


SUBSTANTIALLY    BENEFITED 

Friend —  **  Can  you  cite  a  case  where  a  person 
has  been  actually  benefited  by  osteopathy  ?  '* 

Invalid  (grimly)  —  ^*  Well,  there's  my  doctor.  I 
have  had  to  pay  him  five  bones  for  every  treat- 
ment !  *' 


84  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE   HOUR 

THE    INVALID 

y!  but  I've  been  awful  sick! 

Ma  says  I  wuz  out  my  head  — 
Runnin'  races,  playin'  tag  — 
An'  such  funny  things  I  said! 
Wisht  that  I  could  'member  what 

I  wuz  doin'  then;  but,  gee! 
Course  I  can't.     No  feller  could. 
I  wuz  'lirious,  you  see. 

I  *ve  been  'way  from  school  a  week, 

Don't  know  when  I'll  go  again; 
'Spec't  will  be  a  good  long  time, 

Though  the  doctor  says  I  '11  men' 
Pretty  fas',  cuz  I  'm  a  boy  — 

But  I  guess  't  will  take  a  sight 
More  days  than  he  thinks  it  will, 

'Fore  /  'm  feelin'  jus'  all  right. 

Teacher  sent  me  roun'  some  flowers, 

Shucks!  I  wisht  that  they  wuz  jell, 
Like  the  tumbler  that  I  ate  — 

But  you  mus'  n't  go  an'  tell. 
An'  I  'd  like  some  choc'late  cake, 

An'  ice  cream  an'  peanut  stick  — 
These  things  never,  never  'd  do. 

Says  the  doctor,  when  I  'm  sick. 

I  wuz  sicker  'n  anyone, 

Jimmy  Deane  —  he  thought  he  wuz 
Orful  sick;  but,  pooh!  I  beat 

Him  clean  out  of  sight,  becuz 
It  '11  be  a  munf,  at  leas'. 

So  Ma  says,  'fore  they  dare  let 
Me  eat  stuff — an'  then  I  can't 

Go  to  school  all  day,  I  bet! 

—  Edwin  L.  Sabin. 


An  Irishman  told  his  physician  that  he  stuffed 
him  so  much  with  drugs,  that  he  was  sick  a  long 
time  after  he  got  well. 


THE   PATIENT  85 


SUPERIOR    EXPERIENCE 

THE  imaginary  invalid,  who  fancies  he  has  had 
all  the  diseases  in  the  books,  or  at  least  all 
the  interesting  ones,  is  not  often  an  amusing  per- 
son to  a  physician ;  but  now  and  then  a  valetudina- 
rian of  this  sort  affords  the  faculty  a  good  deal  of 
diversion.  A  man  of  sixty,  who  had  been  a  grum- 
bler all  his  life,  and  had  long  made  a  practice  of 
changing  his  doctors  on  the  slightest  provocation, 
not  long  ago  called  in  a  young  physician  who  had 
gained  a  considerable  reputation.  He  was  telling 
the  doctor  what  he  thought  was  the  matter  with 
him,  when  the  doctor  ventured  to  disagree  with  his 
diagnosis.  ^^  I  beg  your  pardon !  *'  said  the  patient, 
in  a  haughty  way;  ^*  It  isn't  for  a  young  physician 
like  you  to  disagree  with  an  old  experienced  invalid 
like  me !  *^  And  he  went  out  to  seek  another  phy- 
sician. 


ON    ONE    V/HO    WAS    A    SLAVE    TO    HIS 
PHYSICIAN 

Dacus  doth  daily  to  his  doctor  go. 
As  doubting  if  he  be  in  health  or  no; 
For  when  his  friends  salute  him  passing  by, 
And  ask  him  how  he  doth  in  courtesy, 
He  will  not  answer  thereunto  precise, 
Till  from  his  doctor  he  hath  ta'en  advice. 

—  Henry  Parrot  {about  1613). 


THE    HEIGHT    OF    IGNORANCE 

Dr.  Brown  —  ^*  How  do  you  do,  Sally  ?  Don't 
you  know  who  I  am  ?     What  is  my  name  ?  " 

Sally  (scornfully)  —  <<  Why,  Mamma,  doesn't  Dr. 
Brown  know  his  own  name  ?  *^ 


86  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 


SHE    FIXED    IT 

Physician — *^  You  put  this  end  of  the  breathing- 
tube  in  your  mouth  and  the  air  is  drawn  in  through 
the  large  hole  in  the  other  end.  When  your  breath 
is  expelled  it  pushes  a  little  valve  against  the  large 
hole  and  the  breath  is  forced  through  this  tiny 
aperture  in  the  top.  That  keeps  the  air  in  your 
lungs  much  longer  than  when  you  breathe  without 
it.  Use  it  for  a  minute  or  so  several  times  a  day, 
and  I  hope  it  will  strengthen  your  heart.** 

Patient  (three  days  later,  joyfully)  —  ^*  Oh,  doc- 
tor, I've  fixed  this  tube  splendidly!  It  made  me 
feel  queer  to  use  it  at  first,  that  little  hole  was  so 
small.  So  I  made  it  larger  with  my  knife  and  now 
I  can  breathe  through  it  as  easily  as  I  can  with- 
out it.» 


Doctor — **Why,  how  is  this,  my  dear  sir?  You 
sent  me  a  letter  stating  that  you  had  been  attacked 
by  measles,  and  I  find  you  suffering  from  rheu- 
matism. * 

Patient — **Well,  you  see  doctor,  it  is  like  this: 
There  wasn't  a  soul  in  the  house  who  knew  how 
to  spell  rheumatism.** 


Doctor — "Now,  Pat,  I'll  cure  you  if  you'll  only 
take  the  medicine  I  prescribe.** 

Pat  —  "  Go  ahead,  sor.  O'im  thot  anxious  to  get 
well  agin  thot  O'd  take  yure  medicine  aven  if  Oi 
knowed  'twould  kill  me.** 


*  Did  the  doctor  do  anything  to  help  your 
rheumatism  ?  ** 

"  I  guess  so.  Anyway,  it  has  gained  on  me 
steadily  ever  since.** 


THE  PATIENT  87 

NOT    QUITE    SO    SENSITIVE 

«/rpNOCTOR,**  said  the  rheumatic  patient,  "you  seem 
lU^     to  hunt  for  the  sore  spots.* 

*  I  know  them  the  moment  I  put  my  fingers  on 
them,*  replied  the  specialist,  who  was  giving  his 
points  and  muscles  a  kneading.  "  I  don't  have  to 
hunt  for  them.     That  is  a  part  of  my  education.* 

*  Your  fingers  become  sensitive,  I  suppose,  * 
groaned  the  patient,  "  like  those  of  a  postal  clerk, 
who  can  tell  whether  a  letter  has  money  in  it  or 
not  as  soon  as  he  takes  it  in  his  hand.* 

"  Well,  hardly  so  highly  trained  as  that,  *  re- 
joined the  specialist,  with  a  slight  muscular  con- 
traction of  his  left  eyelid.  "  I  can  never  tell,  when 
I  take  hold  of  a  patient  whether  there  is  any 
money  in  him  or  not.* 


AN    ALARMING    SYMPTOM 

"I  WANT  you  to  prescribe  for  my  wife,  doctor.* 

"  What's  the  matter  with  her  ?  * 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I  am  sure  there  is  some- 
thing. She  went  shopping  yesterday  and  brought 
home  part  of  the  money  I  gave  her.* 


IT    WORKS    BOTH    WAYS 

Doctor  M.  — "  What  you   want  is  more  exercise, 
my  little  man.     What  do  you  do  for  a  living  ?  * 
Patient  —  "I'm  a  messenger  boy.* 


SAME  THING 

"An*  does  the  docther  allow  yez  to  dhrink  an' 
shmoke  ?  * 

"Well,  he  said  he  wanted  me  to  be  intoirely 
comfortable  !  * 


THE   PRESCRIPTION 


Metkinks  you  prescribe  to  yourself  very  preposterously. 

—  Shakespeare,  «  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  ii,  2. 


HANDY  ANDY 

Chapter   II 

How  They  Blistered  O'Grady 

NDY  walked  out  of  the  room  with  an  air  of  su- 
preme triumph,  having  laid  the  letters  on  the 
table,  and  left  the  squire  staring  after  him  in  perfect 
amazement. 

«  Well,  by  the  holy  Paul !  that's  the  most  extraor- 
dinary genius  I  ever  came  across,'^  was  the  soliloquy 
the  master  uttered  as  the  servant  closed  the  door 
after  him ;  and  the  squire  broke  the  seal  of  the  letter 
that  Andy's  blundering  had  so  long  delayed.  It 
was  from  his  law-agent,  on  the  subject  of  an  ex- 
pected election  in  the  county  which  would  occur  in 
case  of  the  demise  of  the  then-sitting  member;  it 
ran  thus:  — 

«  Dublin,  Thursday. 
«  My  Dear  Squire.  —  I  am  making  all  possible  exer- 
tions to  have  every  and  the  earliest  information  on  the 
subject  of  the  election.  I  say  the  election, —  because, 
though  the  seat  for  the  county  is  not  yet  vacant,  it 
is  impossible  but  that  it  must  soon  be  so.  Any  other 
man  than  the  present  member  must  have  died  long 
ago;  but  Sir  Timothy  Trimmer  has  been  so  undecided 
all  his  life  that  he  cannot  at  present  make  up  his  mind 
to  die ;  and  it  is  only  by  Death  himself  giving  the  cast- 
ing vote  that  the  question  can  be  decided.  The  writ 
(88) 


THE   PRESCRIPTION  89 

for  the  vacant  county  is  expected  to  arrive  by  every 
mail,  and  in  the  mean  time  I  am  on  the  alert  for  in- 
formation. You  know  we  are  sure  of  the  barony  of  Bal- 
lysloughgutthery,  and  the  boys  of  Killanmaul  will 
murder  any  one  that  dares  to  give  a  vote  against  you. 
We  are  sure  of  Knockdoughty  also,  and  the  very  pigs 
in  Glanamuck  would  return  you ;  but  I  must  put  you  on 
your  guard  in  one  point  where  you  least  expected  to  be 
betrayed.  You  told  me  you  were  sure  of  Neck-or- 
nothing  Hall;  but  I  can  tell  you  you're  out  there;  for 
the  master  of  the  aforesaid  is  working  heaven  and  earth 
to  send  us  all  to  h — 11.  He  backs  the  other  interest; 
for  he  is  so  over  head  and  ears  in  debt,  that  he  is  look- 
ing out  for  a  pension,  and  hopes  to  get  one  by  giving 
his  interest  to  the  Honorable  Sackville  Scatterbrain,  who 
sits  for  the  borough  of  Old  Gooseberry  at  present,  but 
whose  friends  think  his  talents  are  worthy  of  a  county. 
If  Sack  wins,  Neck-or-nothing  gets  a  pension, —  that's 
poz.  I  had  it  from  the  best  authority.  I  lodge  at  a  mil- 
liner's here: — no  matter;  more  when  I  see  you.  But 
don't  be  afraid;  we'll  bag   Sack,  and   distance   Neck-or 

nothing.     But,  seriously  speaking,  its  a  d d  good  joke 

that  O 'Grady  should  use  you  in  this  manner,  who  have 
been  so  kind  to  him  in  money  matters ;  but,  as  the  old  song 
says,  ^  Poverty  parts  good  company ;  ^  and  he  is  so  cursed 
poor  that  he  can't  afford  to  know  you  any  longer,  now 
that  you  have  lent  him  all  the  money  you  had,  and 
the  pension  in  prospectu  is  too  much  for  his  feelings. 
I'll  be  down  with  you  again  as  soon  as  I  can,  for  I 
hate  the  diabolical  town  as  I  do  poison.  They  have 
altered  Stephen's  Green  —  ruined  it,  I  should  say.  They 
have  taken  away  the  big  ditch  that  was  round  it, 
where   I   used   to  hunt  water-rats  when   a   boy.     They 

are  destroying  the  place  with  their  d d  improvements. 

All  the  dogs  are  well,  I  hope,  and  my  favourite  bitch. 
Remember  me  to  Mrs.  Egan,  whom  all  admire. 

My  dear  squire, 
Yours  per  quire, 

MuRTouGH  Murphy.* 

«  To  Edward  Egan,  Esq. ,  Merryvale.  '* 


90  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

Murtough  Murphy  was  a  great  character,  as 
may  be  guessed  from  his  letter.  He  was  a  coun- 
try attorney  of  good  practice; — good,  because  he 
could  not  help  it, —  for  he  was  a  clever,  ready-wit- 
ted fellow,  up  to  all  sorts  of  trap,  and  one  in 
whose  hands  a  cause  was  very  safe;  therefore  he 
had  plenty  of  clients  without  his  seeking  them. 
For,  if  Murtough's  practice  had  depended  on  his 
looking  for  it,  he  might  have  made  broth  of  his 
own  parchment ;  for  though,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, a  good  attorney,  he  was  so  full  of  fun  and 
fond  of  amusement,  that  it  was  only  by  dint  of  the 
business  being  thrust  upon  him  he  was  so  extensive 
a  practitioner.  He  loved  a  good  bottle,  a  good  hunt, 
a  good  joke,  and  a  good  song,  as  well  as  any  fellow 
in  Ireland ;  and  even  when  he  was  obliged  in  the  way 
of  business  to  press  a  gentleman  hard, — to  hunt 
his  man  to  the  death, —  he  did  it  so  good-humour- 
edly  that  his  very  victim  could  not  be  angry  with 
him.  As  for  those  he  served,  he  was  their  prime 
favourite ;  there  was  nothing  they  could  want  to  be 
done  in  the  parchment  line  that  Murtough  would 
not  find  out  some  way  of  doing;  and  he  was  so 
pleasant  a  fellow,  that  he  shared  in  the  hospitality 
of  all  the  best  tables  in  the  county.  He  kept  good 
horses,  was  on  every  race -ground  within  twenty 
miles,  and  a  steeple-chase  was  no  steeple-chase 
without  him.  Then  he  betted  freely,  and,  what's 
more,  won  his  bets  very  generally;  but  no  one 
found  fault  with  him  for  that,  and  he  took  your 
money  with  such  a  good  grace,  and  mostly  gave 
you  a  bon-mot  in  exchange  for  it, —  so  that,  next 
to  winning  the  money  yourself,  you  were  glad  it 
was  won  by  Murtough  Murphy. 

The  squire  read  his  letter  two  or  three  times, 
and  made  his  comments  as  he  proceeded.  ^^  *  Work- 
ing heaven  and  earth  to  send  us  to *     So,  that's 

the    work    O'Grady's    at  —  that's    old    friendship  — 


THE   PRESCRIPTION  pt 

d d  unfair;  and  after  all  the  money  I  lent  him,  too; 

—  he'd  better  take  care  —  I'll  be  down  on  him  if 
he  plays  foul;  —  not  that  I'd  like  that  much  either; 

—  but  —  let's  see  who's  this  is  coming  down  to  op- 
pose me? — Sack  Scatterbrain  —  the  biggest  fool 
from  this  to  himself;  —  the  fellow  can't  ride  a  bit. 
— a  pretty  member  for  a  sporting  county!  <I 
lodge  at  a  milliner's*  —  divil  doubt  you,  Murtough ; 
I'll  engage  you  do. —  Bad  luck  to  him! — he'd 
rather  be  fooling  away  his  time  in  a  back  parlour, 
behind  a  bonnet-shop,  than  minding  the  interests 
of  the  county.  < Pension* — ha!  —  wants  it  sure 
enough;  —  take  care,  O'Grady,  or  by  the  powers 
I'll  be  at  you.  —  You  may  baulk  all  the  bailiffs, 
and  defy  any  other  man  to  serve  you  with  a  writ; 
but,  by  jingo!  if  I  take  the  matter  in  hand,  I'll 
be  bound  I'll  get  it  done.  <  Stephen's  Green — big 
ditch  —  where  I  used  to  hunt  water-rats.*  —  Divil 
sweep  you,  Murphy!  you'd  rather  be  hunting  water- 
rats  any  day  than  minding  your  business. —  He's  a 
clever  fellow  for  all  that.  *  Favourite  bitch  —  Mrs. 
Egan.*  Ay! — there's  the  end  of  it  —  with  his  bit 
o'  po'thry  too!     The  divil!** 

The  squire  threw  down  the  letter,  and  then  his 
eye  caught  the  other  two  that  Andy  had  purloined. 

**  More  of  that  stupid  blackguard's  work !  —  rob- 
bing the  mail  —  no  less !  —  that  fellow  will  be 
hanged  some  time  or  other.  Egad,  maybe  they'll 
hang  him  for  this!  What's  best  to  be  done?  — 
Maybe  it  will  be  the  safest  way  to  see  who  they 
are  for,  and  send  them  to  the  parties,  and  request 
they  will  say  nothing;  that's  it.** 

The  squire  here  took  up  the  letters  that  lay  be- 
fore him,  to  read  their  superscriptions;  and  the 
first  he  turned  over  was  directed  to  Gustavus  Granby 
O'Grady,  Esq.,  Neck-or-nothing  Hall,  Knock- 
botherum.  This  was  what  is  called  a  curious  coin- 
cidence. Just  as  he  had  been  reading  all  about 
O'Grady's    intended  treachery   to   him,  here   was  a 


92  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

letter  to  that  individual,  and  with  the  Dublin  post- 
mark too,  and  a  very  grand  seal. 

The  squire  examined  the  arms,  and,  though  not 
versed  in  the  mysteries  of  heraldry,  he  thought  he 
remembered  enough  of  most  of  the  arms  he  had 
seen  to  say  that  this  armorial  bearing  was  a  strange 
one  to  him.  He  turned  the  letter  over  and  over 
again,  and  looked  at  it  back  and  front,  with  an  ex- 
pression in  his  face  that  said,  as  plain  as  counte- 
nance could  speak,  ^^I'd  give  a  trifle  to  know  what 
is  inside   of   this.^*     He   looked   at  the   seal   again: 

^^  Here's   a  goose,    I    think   it    is.    sitting   in  a 

bowl,  with  cross-bars  on  it,  and  a  spoon  in  its 
mouth:  like  the  fellow  that  owns  it,  maybe.  A 
goose  with  a  silver  spoon  in  his  mouth!  Well, 
here's  the  gable-end  of  a  house,  and  a  bird  sitting 
on  the  top  of  it.  Could  it  be  Sparrow  ?  There's 
a   fellow    called    Sparrow    that's  under- secretary  at 

the  Castle.      D n   it!      I  wish  I  knew  what    it's 

about.  * 

The  squire  threw  down  the  letter  as  he  said 
"d n  it.**  but  took  it  up  again  in  a  few  sec- 
onds, and,  catching  it  edgewise  between  his  fore- 
finger and  thumb,  gave  a  gentle  pressure  that  made 
the  letter  gape  at  its  extremities;  and  the  squire, 
exercising  that  sidelong  glance  which  is  peculiar  to 
postmasters,  waiting-maids,  and  magpies  who  in- 
spect marrow-bones,  peeped  into  the  interior  of  the 
epistle,  saying  to  himself  as  he  did  so.  "  All's  fair 
in  war,  and  why  not  in  electioneering?**  His  face, 
which  was  screwed  up  to  the  scrutinizing  pucker, 
gradually  lengthened  as  he  caught  some  words  that 
were  on  the  last  turn-over  of  the  sheet,  and  so  could 
be  read  thoroughly,  and  his  brow  darkened  into  the 
deepest  frown  as  he  scanned  these  lines:  **As  you 
very  properly  and  pungently  remark,  poor  Egan  is 
a  bladder  —  a  mere  bladder.  **  "  Am  I  a  hladdher  ? 
by  Jasus!**  said  the  squire,  tearing  the  letter  into 
pieces    and    throwing    it    into    the    fire.     ^^  And    so, 


THE  PRESCRIPTION  93 

Misther  O'Grady,  you  say  I'm  a  bladdher?  *  and 
the  blood  of  the  Egans  rose  as  the  head  of  that 
pugnacious  family  strided  up  and  down  the  room: 
*  I'll  bladdher  you,  my  buck. — I'll  settle  your 
hash !  » 

Here  he  took  up  the  poker,  and  made  a  very 
angry  lunge  at  the  fire,  that  did  not  want  stirring, 
and  there  he  beheld  the  letter  blazing  merrily  away. 
He  dropped   the   poker   as  if  he    had   caught   it  by 

the   hot   end,  as   he   exclaimed,   "  What   the    d 1 

shall  I  do?  I've  burnt  the  letter! '>  This  threw 
the  squire  into  a  fit  of  what  he  was  wont  to  call 
his  **  considering  cap;  '^  and  he  sat  with  his  feet  on 
the  fender  for  some  minutes,  occasionally  mutter- 
ing to   himself    what  he  began    with, —  ^*  What   the 

d 1  shall  I  do  ?      It's  all  owing  to   that   infernal 

Andy  —  I'll  murder  that  fellow  some  time  or  other. 
If  he  hadn't  brought  it,  I  shouldn't  have  seen  it, — 
to  be  sure.  If  I  hadn't  looked;  but  then  the  temp- 
tation—  a  saint  couldn't  have  withstood  it.  Con- 
found it!  what  a  stupid  trick  to  burn  it.  Another 
here,  too  —  must  burn  that  as  well,  and  say  nothing 
about  either  of  them ;  '*  and  he  took  up  the  second 
letter,  and,  merely  looking  at  the  address,  threw  it 
into  the  fire.  He  then  rang  the  bell,  and  desired 
Andy  to  be  sent  to  him.  As  soon  as  that  ingenious 
individual  made  his  appearance,  the  squire  desired 
him  with  peculiar  emphasis  to  shut  the  door,  and 
then  opened  upon  him  with, 

*  You  unfortunate  rascal !  ^* 

*  Yis,  your  honor.  '^ 

"  Do  you   know   that  you  might  be  hanged   for 
what  you  did  to-day  ?  * 
«  What  did  I  do,  sir  ? » 
**You  robbed  the  post-office.'* 
«  How  did  I  rob  it,  sir  ?  » 
"  You  took  two  letters  you  had  no  right  to.  * 

*  It's  no  robbery  for  a  man  to  get  the  worth  of 
his  money.'* 


94  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

*Will  you  hold  your  tongue,  you  stupid  villian! 
I'm  not  joking:  you  absolutely  might  be  hanged 
for  robbing  the  post-office.'^ 

*'  Sure  I  didn't  know  there  was  any  harm  in 
what  I  done;  and  for  that  matther,  sure,  if  they're 
sitch  wondherful  value,  can't  I  go  back  again  wid 
'em  ? » 

*  No,  you  thief,  I  hope  you  have  not  said  a  word 
to  any  one  about  it.*' 

**  Not  the  sign  of  a  word  Dassed  my  lips  about 
'it.» 

**  You're  sure  ?  '* 

«  Sartin. » 

^*  Take  care,  then,  that  you  never  open  your 
mouth  to  mortal  about  it,  or  you'll  be  hanged,  as 
sure  as  your  name  is  Andy  Rooney.'* 

"  Oh,  at  that  rate  I  never  will.  But  maybe  your 
honour  thinks  I  ought  to  be  hanged  ?  *' 

^*  No  — because  you  did  not  intend  to  do  a  wrong 
thing;  but,  only  I  have  pity  on  you,  I  could  hang 
you  to-morrow  for  what  you've  done." 

** Thank  you,  sir." 

*  I've  burnt  the  letters,  so  no  one  can  know 
anything  about  the  business  unless  you  tell  on  your- 
self: so  remember, —  not  a  word." 

"Faith,   I'll  be  as  dumb  as  the  dumb  baste." 

*  Go,  now,  and,  once  for  all,  remember  you'll 
he  hanged  so  sure  as  you  ever  mention  one  word 
about  this  affair." 

Andy  made  a  bow  and  a  scrape,  and  left  the 
squire,  who  hoped  the  secret  was  safe.  He  then 
took  a  ruminating  walk  round  the  pleasure  grounds, 
revolving  plans  of  retaliation  upon  his  false  friend 
O'Grady;  and  having  determined  to  put  the  most 
severe  and  sudden  measure  of  the  law  in  force 
against  him  for  the  monies  in  which  he  was  in- 
debted to  him,  he  only  awaited  the  arrival  of  Mur- 
tough  Murphy  from  Dublin  to  execute  his  vengeance. 
Having    settled   this   in    his   own  mind,  he  became 


THE   PRESCRIPTION 


95 


more  contented,  and  said,   with  a   self-satisfied  nod 
of  the  head,   "We'll  see  who's  the  bladdher.» 

In  a  few  days  Murtough  Murphy  returned  from 
Dublin,  and  to  Merryvale  he  immediately  proceeded. 
The  squire  opened  to  him  directly  his  intention 
of  commencing  hostile  law  proceedings  against 
O 'Grady,  and  asked  what  most  summary  measures 
could  be  put  in  practice  against  him. 

«0h:  various,  various,  my  dear  squire, *>  said 
Murphy;  *but  I  don't  see  any  great  use  in  doing 
so  yet^ — he  has  not  openly  avowed  himself.*^ 

"  But  does  he  not  intend  to  coalesce  with  the 
other  party  ?  * 

*  I  believe  so ;  —  that  is,  if  he's  to  get  the  pension.  * 

**  Well,  and  that's  as  good  as  done,  you  know ; 
for  if  they  want  him,  the  pension  is  easily  managed.  '* 

^*I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.'* 

"Why,  they're  as  plenty  as  blackberries.** 

"Very  true;  but,  you  see.  Lord  Gobblestown 
swallows  all  the  pensions  for  his  own  family;  and 
there  are  a  great  many  complaints  in  the  market 
against  him  for  plucking  that  blackberry-bush  very 
bare  indeed;  and  unless  Sack  Scatterbrain  has 
swingeing  interest,  the  pension  may  not  be  such  an 
easy  thing." 

"  But  still  O'Grady  has  shown  himself  not  my 
friend.  ** 

«My  dear  squire,  don't  be  so  hot:  he  has  not 
shown  himself  yet ** 

"Well,  but  he  means  it.» 

"  My  dear  squire,  you  oughtn't  to  jump  a  con- 
clusion like  a  twelve-foot  drain  or  a  five-bar  gate.** 

"  Well,  he's  a  blackguard.  ** 

"  No  denying  it ;  and  therefore  keep  him  on  your 
side,  if  you  can,  or  he'll  be  a  troublesome  customer 
on  the  other.** 

"I'll  keep  no  terms  with  him;  —  I'll  slap  at  him 
directly.  What  can  you  do  that's  wickedest? — lat- 
itat, capias  —  fee-faw-fum,  or  whatever  you  call  it  ?  ** 


96  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

<*  Hello!  squire,  you're  overrunning  your  game: 
maybe,  after  all,  he  won't  join  the  Scatterbrains, 
and » 

<^  I  tell  you  it's  no  matter ;  he  intended  doing  it, 
and  that's  all  the  same.  I'll  slap  at  him,  —  I'll 
blister  him !  '*'* 

Murtough  Murphy  wondered  at  this  blind  fury 
of  the  squire,  who,  being  a  good-humoured  and  good- 
natured  fellow  in  general,  puzzled  the  attorney  the 
more  by  his  present  manifest  malignity  against 
O'Grady.  But  he  had  not  seen  the  turn-over  of  the 
letter ;  he  had  not  seen  "  bladdher  **  —  the  real  and 
secret  cause  of  the  "  war  to  the  knife  ^*  spirit  which 
was  kindled  in  the  squire's  breast. 

*•'-  Of  course  you  can  do  what  you  please ;  but,  if 
you'd  take  a  friend's  advice * 

«I  tell  you  I'll  blister  him.» 

<*  He  certainly  bled  you  very  freely.^* 

<*  I'll  blister  him,  I  tell  you,  and  that  smart. 
Lose  no  time,  Murphy,  my  boy  :  let  loose  the 
dogs  of  law  on  him,  and  harass  him  till  he'd  wish 
the  d 1  had  him.» 

*  Just  as  you   like  ;   but ** 

*  I'll  have  it  my  own  way,  I  tell  you ;  so  say 
no  more.** 

*  I'll  commence  against  him  at  once  then,  as 
you  wish  it;  but  it's  no  use,  for  you  know  very 
well  that  it  will  be  impossible  to  serve  him.** 

"Let  me  alone  for  that:  I'll  be  bound  I'll  find 
fellows  to  get  the  inside  of  him.** 

*^  Why,  his  house  is  barricaded  like  a  jail,  and  he 
has  dogs  enough  to  bait  all  the  bulls  in  the  country.** 

"No  matter;  just  send  me  the  blister  for  him, 
and  I'll  engage  I'll  stick  it  on  him.** 

« Very  well,  squire ;  you  shall  have  the  blister 
as  soon  as  it  can  be  got  ready.  I'll  tell  you  when- 
ever you  may  send  over  to  me  for  it,  and  your 
messenger  shall  have  it  hot  and  warm  for  him. 
Good-b'ye,  squire.** 


THE  PRESCRIPTION 


97 


"  Good-b'ye,  Murphy !  —  lose  no  time.  ® 
*  In  the  twinkling  of  a  bed-post.     Are    you   go- 
ing to  Tom  Durfy's  steeple-chase  ?  '* 

"  I'm  not  sure. " 

"I've  a  bet  on  it.  Did  you  see  the  Widow 
Flanagan  lately  ?  You  didn't  ''  They  say  Tom's 
pushing  it  strong  there.  The  widow  has  money, 
you  know,  and  Tom  does  it  all  for  the  love  o' 
God;  for  you  know,  squire,  there  are  two  things 
God  hates, —  a  coward  and  a  poor  man.  Now, 
Tom's  no  coward;  and  that  he  may  be  sure  of  the 
love  o'  God  on  the  other  score,  he's  making  up  to 
the  widow;  and,  as  he's  a  slashing  fellow,  she's 
nothing  loth,  and,  for  fear  of  any  one  cutting  him 
out,  Tom  keeps  as  sharp  a  look-out  after  her  as 
she  does  after  him.  He's  fierce  on  it,  and  looks 
pistols  at  any  one  that  attempts  putting  his  come- 
ther  on  the  widow,  while  she  looks  "  as  soon  as 
you  plaze,^'  as  plain  as  an  optical  lecture  can  en- 
lighten the  heart  of  man:  in  short,  Tom's  all  ram's 
horns,  and  the  widow  all  sheep's  eyes.  Good-b'ye, 
squire !  ^*  And  Murtough  put  spurs  to  his  horse 
and  cantered  down  the  avenue  singing. 

Andy  was  sent  over  to  Murtough  Murphy's  for 
the  law  process  at  the  appointed  time;  and,  as  he 
had  to  pass  through  the  village,  Mrs.  Egan  de- 
sired him  to  call  at  the  apothecary's  for  some 
medicine  that  was  prescribed  for  one  of  the  chil- 
dren. 

«  What'll  I  ax  for,  ma'am  ? » 

I'd  be  sorry  to  trust  to  you,  Andy,  for  remem- 
bering. Here's  the  prescription  ;  take  great  care 
of  it,  and  Mr.  M'Grane  will  give  you  something  to 
bring  back  ;  and  mind,  if  it's  a  powder,  don't  let 
it  get  wet  as  you  did  the  sugar  the  other  day.** 

"No,  ma'am.'* 

"And  if  it's  a  bottle,  don't  break  it  as  you  did 
the  last.** 

"  No,  ma'am.  ** 

D.L.H. — 7 


gS  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

*And  make  haste.*' 

«Yes,  ma'am,*'  and  off  went  Andy. 

In  going  through  the  village  he  forgot  to  leave 
the  prescription  at  the  apothecary's,  and  pushed  on 
for  the  attorney's:  there  he  saw  Murtough  Murphy, 
who  handed  him  the  law  process,  enclosed  in  a 
cover,  with  a  note  to  the  squire. 

*  Have  you  been  doing  anything  very  clever 
lately,  Andy  ? "  said  Murtough. 

<<I  don't  know,  sir,**  said  Andy. 
*^  Did  you  shoot   any  one  with   soda-water  since 
I  saw  you  last  ?  ** 
Andy  grinned. 

*  Did  you  kill  any  more  dogs  lately,  Andy  ?  ** 

*  Faix,  you're  too  hard  on  me,  sir ;  sure  I 
never  killed  but  one  dog,  and  that  was  an  acci- 
dent   ** 

*An    accident!  —  D n    your    impudence,   you 

thief!  Do  you  think,  if  you  killed  one  of  the  pack 
on  purpose,  we  wouldn't  cut  the  very  heart  out  of 
you  with  our  hunting-whips  ?  ** 

"Faith,  I  wouldn't  doubt  you,  sir;  but,  sure,  how 
could  I  help  that  divil  of  a  mare  runnin'  away  wid 
me,  and  thramplin'  the  dogs .''  ** 

"  Why  didn't  you  hold  her,  you  thief  ?  * 

"  Hould  her,  indeed  I — you  just  might  as  well 
expect  to  stop  fire  among  flax  as  that  one.** 

"  Well,  be  off  with  you  now,  Andy,  and  take 
care  of  what  I  gave  you  for  the  squire.** 

*  Oh,  never  fear,  sir,**  said  Andy,  as  he  turned  his 
horse's  head  homeward.  He  stopped  at  the  apothe- 
cary's in  the  village  to  execute  his  commission  for 
the  "  misthis.  **  On  telling  the  son  of  Galen  that 
he  wanted  some  physic  "  for  one  of  the  childre  up 
at  the  big  house,**  the  dispenser  of  the  healing  art 
asked  what  physic  he  wanted. 

"  Faith,  I  dunna  what  physic.** 

« What's  the  matter  with  the  child?** 

"  He's  sick,  sir.** 


THE  PRESCRIPTION  99 

*I  suppose  so,  indeed,  or  you  wouldn't  be  sent 
for  medicine. — You're  always  making  some  blun- 
der. You  come  here,  and  don't  know  what  descrip- 
tion of  medicine  is  wanted.'* 

**  Don't  I  ?  *'    said  Andy  with  a  great  air. 

*  No,  you  don't,  you  omadhaun !  **  said  the  apoth- 
ecary, 

Andy  fumbled  in  his  pockets,  and  could  not  lay 
hold  of  the  paper  his  mistress  entrusted  him  with 
until  he  had  emptied  them  thoroughly  of  their  con- 
tents upon  the  counter  of  the  shop;  and  then  tak- 
ing the  prescription  from  the  collection,  he  said, 
*So  you  tell  me  I  don't  know  the  description  of 
the  physic  I'm  to  get.  Now  you  see  you're  out; 
for  thafs  the  description?^  And  he  slapped  the 
counter  impressively  with  his  hand,  as  he  threw 
down  the  recipe  before  the  apothecary. 

While  the  medicine  was  in  the  course  of  prep- 
aration for  Andy,  he  commenced  restoring  to  his 
pockets  the  various  parcels  he  had  taken  from  them 
in  hunting  for  the  recipe.  Now,  it  happened  that 
he  had  laid  them  down  close  beside  some  articles 
that  were  compounded,  and  sealed  up  for  going 
out,  on  the  apothecary's  counter;  and  as  the  law 
process  which  Andy  had  received  from  Murtough 
Murphy  chanced  to  resemble  in  form  another  en- 
closure that  lay  beside  it,  containing  a  blister,  Andy, 
under  the  influence  of  his  peculiar  genius,  popped 
the  blister  into  his  pocket  instead  of  the  packet 
which  had  been  confided  to  him  by  the  attorney, 
and  having  obtained  the  necessary  medicine  from 
M'Grane,  rode  home  with  great  self-complacency 
that  he  had  not  forgot  to  do  a  single  thing  that 
had  been  entrusted  to  him:  "I'm  all  right  this 
time,'*  said  Andy  to  himself. 

Scarcely  had  he  left  the  apothecary's  shop  when 
another  messenger  alighted  at  its  door,  and  asked 
*If  Squire  O'Grady's  things  was  ready?* 


lOO  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

** There  they  are,'*  said  the  innocent  M'Grane, 
pointing  to  the  bottles,  boxes,  and  blister,  he  had 
made  up  and  set  aside,  little  dreaming  that  the 
blister  had  been  exchanged  for  a  law  process;  and 
Squire  O'Grady's  own  messenger  popped  into  his 
pocket  the  legal  instrument,  that  it  was  as  much 
as  any  seven  men's  lives  were  worth  to  bring 
within  gunshot  of  Neck-or-nothing  Hall, 

Home  he  went,  and  the  sound  of  the  old  gate 
creaking  on  its  hinges  at  the  entrance  to  the  ave- 
nue awoke  the  deep-mouthed  dogs  around  the 
house,  who  rushed  infuriate  to  the  spot  to  devour 
the  unholy  intruder  on  the  peace  and  privacy  of 
the  patrician  O 'Grady;  but  they  recognised  the  old 
grey  hack  and  his  rider,  and  quietly  wagged  their 
tails  and  trotted  back,  and  licked  their  lips  at  the 
thoughts  of  the  bailiff  they  had  hoped  to  eat.  The 
door  of  Neck-or-nothing  Hall  was  carefully  unbar- 
red and  unchained,  and  the  nurse- tender  was 
handed  the  parcel  from  the  apothecary's,  and  re- 
ascended  to  the  sick  room  with  slippered  foot  as 
quietly  as  she  could;  for  the  renowned  O'Grady 
was,  according  to  her  account,  "  as  cross  as  two 
sticks ;  *  and  she  protested,  furthermore,  **  that  her 
heart  was  grey  with  him.** 

Mrs.  O'Grady  was  near  the  bed  of  the  sick  man 
as  the  nurse -tender  entered. 

**  Here's  the  things  for  your  honour  now,**  said 
she  in  her  most  soothing  tone. 

^*  I  wish   the    d 1  had   you  and   them!**  said 

O'Grady. 

*  Gusty,  dear !  **  said  his  wife.  She  might  have 
said  stormy  instead  of  gusty. 

**Oh!  they'll  do  you  good,  your  honour,**  said 
the  nurse-tender,  curtsying,  and  uncorking  bottles, 
and  opening  a  pill-box. 

"  Curse  them  all !  **  said  the  squire.  *^  A  pretty 
thing  to  have  a   gentleman's    body  made  a  perfect 


THE   PRESCRIPTION  loi 

sink  for  these  blackguard  doctors   and  apothecaries 

to  pour  their  dirty  stuff  into  —  faugh !  *' 

^^  Now,  sir,  dear,  there's  a  li^fle"  blisther  ii^Gt  to 

go  on  your  chest  —  if  you  plaze  — ^ — " 

« A  what !  »  ■        ^-  ■         •'•   '^-     ^'        '^ 

**  A  warm  plasther,   dear.  '^ 

**  A  blister  you  said,  you  old  divil !  *^ 

*^  Well,  sure,  it's  something  to  relieve  you. " 

The  squire  gave  a  deep  growl,  and  his  wife  put 

in  the  usual  appeal  of  ^*  Gusty,  dear!  ^'* 

"  Hold   your   tongue,  will   you  ?   how   would  you 

like  it  ?     I  wish  you  had  it  on  your  *' 

*  Deed-an-deed,  dear, ^*  said  the  nurse-tender. 

**  By  the  'ternal  war!  if    you  say  another    word, 

I'll  throw  the  jug  at  you!  *^ 

^^  And  there's  a  nice  dhrop  o'  gruel  I  have  on 
the  fire  for  you,"  said  the  nurse,  pretending  not  to 
mind  the  rising  anger  of  the  squire,  as  she  stirred 
the  gruel  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she 
marked  herself  with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  said 
in  a  mumbling  manner,  "God  presarve  us!  he's  the 
most  cantankerous  Christian  I  ever  kem  across ! " 

"  Show  me  that  infernal  thing!  "  said  the  squire. 

«What  thing,  dear  ?  » 

*  You  know  well  enough,  you  old  hag! — that 
blackguard  blister !  '^ 

"  Here  it  is,  dear.  Now,  just  open  the  brust  o' 
your  shirt,  and  let  me  put  it  on  you.'* 

*  Give  it  into  my  hand  here,  and  let  me  see  it.  ** 
"  Sartinly,  sir;  —  but  I  think,  if  you'd  let  me  just 


^*Give  it  to  me,  I  tell  you!  "  said  the  squire,  in 
a  tone  so  fierce  that  the  nurse  paused  in  her  un- 
folding of  the  packet,  and  handed  it  with  fear  and 
trembling  to  the  already  indignant  O'Grady.  But 
it  is  only  imagination  can  figure  the  outrageous 
fury  of  the  squire,  when,  on  opening  the  envelope 
with  his  own  hand,  he  beheld  the  law  process  be- 
fore him.     There,  in  the  heart  of  his  castle,  with  his 


I02  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

bars,  and  bolts,  and  bull-dogs,  and  blunderbusses 
round  him,  he  was  served  —  absolutely  served, — 
and  .hf/  Jiad  iao'  doubt  ihe  nurse-tender  was  bribed 
to  betray  hini.    '  '   '   '  \,  ^ 

•  -  A:  ~o^r -and  -  a  jtm);p  up  in  bed,  first  startled  his 
wife  into  terror,  and  put  the  nurse  on  the  defen- 
sive. 

*  You  infernal  old  strap !  *  shouted  he,  as  he 
clutched  up  a  handful  of  bottles  on  the  table  near 
him  and  flung  them  at  the  nurse,  who  was  near 
the  fire  at  the  time;  and  she  whipped  the  pot  of 
gruel  from  the  grate,  and  converted  it  into  a  means 
of  defence  against  the  phial-pelting  storm. 

Mrs.  O' Grady  rolled  herself  up  in  the  bed  cur- 
tains, while  the  nurse  screeched  "murther!*^  and 
at  last,  when  O'Grady  saw  that  bottles  were  of  no 
avail,  he  scrambled  out  of  bed,  shouting,  *  Where's 
my  blunderbuss  ?  ^^  and  the  nurse-tender,  while  he 
endeavoured  to  get  it  down  from  the  rack,  where 
is  was  suspended  over  the  mantle  piece,  bolted  out 
of  the  door,  which  she  locked  on  the  outside,  and 
ran  to  the  most  remote  corner  of  the  house  for 
shelter. 

In  the  meantime,  how  fared  it  at  Merryvale  ? 
Andy  returned  with  his  parcel  for  the  squire,  and 
his  note  from   Murtough  Murphy,  which    ran  thus: 

«  My  Dear  Squire.  —  I  send  you  the  Mi'sfer  for 
O'Grady,  as  you  insist  on  it;  but  I  think  you  won't 
find  it  easy  to  serve  him  with  it. 

*  Your  obedient  and  obliged, 
<<  Murtough  Murphy. 

*  To  Edward  Egan,  Esq.,  Merryvale?* 

The  squire  opened  the  cover,  and  when  he  saw 
a  real  instead  of  a  figurative  blister,  grew  crimson 
with  rage.  He  could  not  speak  for  some  minutes, 
his  indignation  was  so  excessive.  "So!**  said  he, 
at  last,  "  Mr.   Murtough  Murphy — you  think  to  cut 


THE  PRESCRIPTION  103 

your  jokes  with  me,  do  you  ?  By  all  that's  sacred! 
I'll  cut  such  a  joke  on  you  with  the  biggest  horse- 
whip I  can  find,  that  you'll  remember  it.  '•Dear 
squire,  I  send  you  the  blister.^  Bad  luck  to  your 
impidence !  Wait  till  a  while  ago  —  that's  all.  By 
this  and  that,  you'll  get  such  a  blistering  from  me 
that  all    the    spermaceti    in    M'Grane's    shop    won't 

cure  you.** 

—  Samuel  Lover. 


NEARLY    POISONED 

CELEBRATED  German  physician  was  once  called 
upon  to  treat  an  aristocratic  lady,  the  sole 
cause  of  whose  complaint  was  high  living  and  lack 
of  exercise.  But  it  would  never  have  done  to  tell 
her  so.     So  his  medical  advice  ran  thus :  — 

*•'•  Arise  at  five  o'clock,  take  a  walk  in  the  park 
for  one  hour,  then  drink  a  cup  of  tea,  then  walk  an- 
other hour,  and  take  a  cup  of  chocolate.  Take 
breakfast  at  eight.** 

Her  condition  improved  visibly,  until  one  fine 
morning  the  carriage  of  the  baroness  was  seen  to 
approach  the  physician's  residence  at  lightning- 
speed.  The  patient  dashed  up  to  the  doctor's  house, 
and  on  his  appearing  on  the  scene  she  gasped  out : — 

<<  Oh,  doctor,   I  took  the  chocolate  first !  ** 

*  Then  drive  home  as  fast  as  you  can,  **  directed 
the  astute  disciple  of  ^sculapius,  rapidly  writing 
a  prescription,  ^^  and  take  this  emetic.  The  tea 
must  be  underneath.** 

The  grateful  patient  complied.  She  is  still  im- 
proving. 


ADVICE 

"  Oh  !     You  needn't  worry  at  all !  ** 

«  But  I  can't  help  it,  doctor ** 

^<  Well,  in  that  case,  worry  in  moderation!  ** 


I04  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


BRINGING    HIM   AROUND 

« jyvo,  NO,  young  man  ;  there  aint  nothing  wuth 
A\i  speaking  of  the  matter  of  you,^^  said  old 
Doctor  Sipes  to  delicate  little  Claude  De  Vere, 
who  was  spending  a  few  weeks  amid  the  rural  de- 
lights of  Sipesville.  Claudie  was  a  disciple  of 
homeopathy,  while  Dr.  Sipes  was  a  defender  of 
allopathic  principles,  and  the  only  doctor  within 
ten  miles  of  Sipesville. 

*^  I  tell  you  what  you  do,  *^  said  the  old  doctor, 
while  Claudie 's  blood  ran  cold:  **You  slap  a  good 
hot  mustard  plaster  on  your  back  and  one  of 
slip'ry  ellum  on  your  chist.  Drink  a  quart  of  red 
pepper  tea  b'iling  hot  when  you  go  to  bed,  soak 
your  feet  in  b'iling  water,  and  take  three  of  these 
pills  every  hour,  and  one  of  these  quinine  powders 
every  half-hour,  with  a  good  swig  of  this  green 
mixture  between,  and  a  half-a-pint  of  this  yeller- 
ish  stuff  night  and  morning.  You  keep  that  up  a 
week  and  you'll  be  a  different  man.  It'll  knock 
most  any  disease  mortal  man  ever  come  down 
with.» 


REMARKABLE 

Briggs  —  That  doctor  is  certainly  a  wonderful 
physician!     This  medicine  of  his  cured  me. 

Griggs — Is  that  all  he  gave  you? 

Briggs  —  Yes.  Told  me  to  take  ten  drops  after 
each  meal,  give  up  my  business  for  two  months, 
and  live  in  the  open  air.     Now,  look  at  me! 


A  WISE   PRESCRIPTION 

Doctor — How  is  your  appetite? 
Patient  —  Fine !     I  can  eat  anything. 
Doctor — Well,  don't  for  a  while  and  you  will  get 
better. 


THE  PRESCRIPTION  105 

A  RADICAL   CURE 

South  African  farmer  who  had  lost  some 
cows  by  the  cattle  plague  was  fully  per- 
suaded that  he  had  himself  been  attacked  by  the 
epidemic.  Forthwith  he  hurried  off  and  consulted 
his  medical  man,  who  tried  to  laugh  him  out  of 
the  absurd  notion,  but  to  no  purpose. 

The  farmer  then  went  to  an  old,  well-known 
practitioner,  who,  being  a  bit  of  a  wag  and  see- 
ing how  matters  stood,  entered  minutely  into  the 
details  of  the  case,  expressed  his  concurrence  with 
the  patient's  views,  and  told  him  he  could  cure 
him. 

The  doctor  thereupon  wrote  a  prescription, 
sealed  it  up,  and  told  the  farmer  to  go  to  a  drug- 
gist in  the  next  town. 

The  farmer  lost  no  time  in  going  with  the  pre- 
scription, but  was  somewhat  startled  when  the 
druggist  showed  him  the  formula,  which  ran  thus: 

"  This  man  has  the  cattle  plague.  Take  him 
into  the  back  yard  and  shoot  him,  according  to 
law.» 

That  cured  him. 


THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

Doctor  —  As  a  physician,  I  must  condemn  the 
use  of  alcoholic  beverages. 

Patient  —  But  you  use  them  yourself. 

Doctor — Yes;  but  not  as  a  physician.  When  I 
drink,  I  am  nothing  but  an  ordinary  human  being 
with  a  thirst. 


SURE  CURE 

*  Doctor,  my  wife  has  lost  her  voice;  what  can 
I  do  about  it  ?  » 

"  Go  home  late  some  night.  * 


Io6  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


A  SURE   REMEDY 

«  Did  you  ever  call  upon  Dr.  Banquet,  profes- 
sionally ?  ** 

**Yes,  once.     I  was  drowning.** 

"  Drowning  ?  ** 

«Yes.  He  diagnosticated  my  case  on  the  in- 
stant and  wrote  a  prescription  on  a  chip  which  he 
threw  into  the  water  where  I  could  get  it.** 

«What  was  the  prescription?** 

^     «Swim.** 


TO    A    FRIEND     WHO     RECOMMENDED 
ASS'S    MILK 

And,  doctor,  do  you  really  think 
That  ass's  milk  I  ought  to  drink? 
'T  would  remove  my  cough,  you  say. 
And  drive  my  old  complaints  away. 
It  cured  yourself  —  I  grant  it  true; 
But  then  —  't  was  mother's  milk  to  you ! 

—John   Wolcot. 


FREE  MEDICAL  ADVICE 

*  Doctor,**  said  a  citizen  as  he  overtook  him  on 
the  street,  ^*  what  do  you  do  in  case  of  a  gone 
stomach?  ** 

«Well,**  replied  the  doctor,  thoughtfully,  "I've 
never  had  such  a  case  myself,  but  I  would  recom- 
mend you  to  advertise  for  it  and  then  sit  down  in 
a  large  easy-chair  and  wait  until  somebody  brings 
it  back.** 


Jimson  —  *  Doctor,  I  am  getting  too  stout  for 
comfort,  and  I  want  your  advice.** 

Doctor — "Nothing  reduces  flesh  like  worry. 
Spend  two  hours  a  day  thinking  of  the  unpaid  bill 


you  owe  me.** 


THE  PRESCRIPTION  107 


FIVE   DOLLARS 

*  Doctor,  I  wish  you'd  prescribe  something  for 
these  awful  colds  of  mine.** 

"  Certainly,  **  said  the  doctor,  and  wrote  the  pre- 
scription : — 

Care. 


There  came  to  a  young  doctor  an  uncommonly 
unclean  infant  borne  in  the  arms  of  a  mother  whose 
face  showed  the  same  abhorrence  of  soap.  Look- 
ing down  upon  the  child  for  a  moment  the  doctor 
solemnly  said :  ^^  It  seems  to  be  suffering  from  *  hy- 
drophatic  hydrophobia.  *  ** 

**  Oh,  doctor,  is  it  as  bad  as  that  ? ''  cried  the 
mother.  **  That's  a  big  sickness  for  such  a  mite. 
Whatever  shall  I  do  for  the  child  ?  ** 

^*Wash  its  face,  madam,**  replied  the  doctor; 
^*  the  disease  will  go  off  with  the  dirt.  ** 

^^  Wash  its  face  —  wash  its  face,  indeed !  **  ex- 
claimed the  mother,  losing  her  temper.  "  What 
next,  I'd  like  to  know.** 

*^  Wash  your  own,  madam  —  wash  your  own,  ** 
was  the  rejoinder. 


<<  Doctor,**  said  he,  ^^  I'm  a  victim  of  insomnia. 
I  can't  sleep  if  there's  the  least  noise  —  such  as  a 
cat  on  the  back  fence,  for  instance.** 

<^This  powder  will  be  effective,**  replied  the  phy- 
sician, after  compounding  a  prescription. 

«  When  do  I  take  it,  doctor  ?  ** 

**  You  don't  take  it.  Give  it  to  the  cat  in  a 
little  milk.** 


lo8  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

A  FEW  days  ago  the  doctor  at  the  Demilt  Dis- 
pensary was  greatly  amused  with  a  hmping  Irish- 
man, who  had  been  there  a  short  time  before  with  a 

sprained  ankle.     Dr.  B wrote  out  a  prescription 

for  a  liniment,  and  told  Paddy  to  rub  it  on  his  ankle 
every  night,  and  come  back  at  the  end  of  a  week 
and  report.  Paddy  now  presented  a  paper,  sadly 
soiled  and  worn,  which  proved  to  be  the  original 
prescription  as  written  by  the  doctor. 

«Well,  what  have  you  been  doing  with  this, 
Pat? » 

« Sure,  yer  honor,  I've  did  as  ye  tould  me. 
I've  rubbed  me  ankle  with  it  every  night,  and  its 
cured  intirely,  God  bliss  yer  honor!'* 


Physician  (who  thinks  his  patient,  a  college  pro- 
fessor, more  in  need  of  recreation  than  drugs,  but 
has  written  a  prescription  for  a  mild  tonic)  —  ^*  Here 
is  a  prescription,  Professor,  but  what  you  need  is  a 
good  hearty  laugh.** 

College  professor  (glancing  at  the  paper)  — «  Ha, 
ha,  ha!     Ho,  ho,  ho! » 

«Eh!     What  are  you  laughing  at?* 

«Your  Latin. » 


First  Friend —  <*  My  doctor  advises  me  to  cycle, 
but  I  don't  think  I  will  do  so.** 

Second  Friend —  ^*  You  don't  ?  ** 

First  Friend —  *<  No.  I  think  he  is  biased  —  he's 
a  surgeon.** 

«  What  is  the  cure  for  gout  ?  **  said  a  sufferer 
to  Dr.  Abernethy. 

*  Live  on  six-pence  a  day  and  earn  it,  **  was  the 
doctor's  reply. 


THE  PRESCRIPTION  109 

Doctor  (to  operetta  diva  who  wishes  to  be  vac- 
cinated)—  **  Shall  I  vaccinate  your  arm?** 

Diva — "Heavens!  No,  of  course  not.  Think  of 
me  as  an  artist  with  a  scar  on  my  arm !  You  must 
vaccinate  me  where  it  won't  show.** 

Doctor — <<  I  think  you  had  better  take  it  inter- 
nally.** 


Doctor — "  My  dear  madam,  I'll  give  you  a  tonic 
that  will  do  you  a  world  of  good.** 

Lonesome  Widow  — "  Oh !  doctor,  if  you  could 
only  prescribe  a  little  love.** 

Doctor —  "  Really,  madam,  if  I  were  not  married.** 


THE   REMEDY 

Some  Remedies  are  Worse  than  the  Diseases 

—  Syrus. 


TO  A  TIMID  LEECH 

AY,  start  not  from  the  banquet  where  the  red 
wine  foams  for  thee. 
Though  somewhat   thick   to   perforate   this 
epidermis  be, 
'Tis    madness,    when    the    bowl    invites    to    linger    at 

the  brink; 
So   haste   thee,  haste   thee,  timid   one.     Drink,    pretty 
creature,  drink! 

I  tell  thee,  if  these  azure  veins  could  boast  the  regal 
wine 

Of  Tudors  or  Plantagenets,  the  draught  should  still 
be  thine! 

Though  round  the  goblet's  beaded  brim  plebeian  bub- 
bles wink, 

'  Twill  cheer  and  not  inebriate.  Drink,  pretty  creature, 
drink ! 

Perchance,  reluctant  being,  I   have  placed  thee  wrong 

side  up, 
And   the   lips  that    I   am   chiding  have   been  farthest 

from  the  cup. 
I  have  waited  long  and  vainly,  and  I  cannot,  cannot  think 
Thou  would'st  spurn  the  oft-repeated-call :  Drink,  pretty 

creature,  drink. 

While  I  watched  thy  patient  struggles  and  imagined 
thou  wert  coy, 

*Twas  thy  tail,  and  not  thy  features,  that  refused  the 
proffer'd  joy. 

I  will  but  turn  thee  tenderly  —  nay,  never,  never 
shrink  — 

Now,  once  again  the  banquet  calls :  Drink,  pretty  crea- 
ture, drink! 

— Henry  S.  Leigh 

(no) 


THE   REMEDY 


A  POWERFUL   REMEDY 

(|7  N  THE  village  of  O ,  in  Central  New  York,  lives 

I  a  sharp-tongued  old  bachelor  whom  I  have 
/l^  known  for  twenty-five  years  as  "  Uncle  John. " 
Uncle  John  is  something  of  a  character  about 
town  and  not  destitute  of  Yankee  wit  and  shrewdness. 
He  used  to  make  and  vend  in  an  amateurish  way 
a  certain  cough  mixture,  the  merits  of  which  he 
preached  to  his  friends  with  great  enthusiasm,  war- 
ranting the  remedy  to  cure  any  cold  in  twenty-four 
hours  ^*  or  no  pay.  ^*  One  of  his  old  friends,  whom 
we  will  call  Ike,  being  afflicted  with  a  severe  cough- 
ing cold.  Uncle  John  used  his  best  efforts  in  argu- 
ment, persuasion,  and  finally  vehement  and  profane 
scolding  to  get  him  to  try  the  remedy.  But  Ike 
could  not  be  induced  to  '^  chance  it.  **  Not  long 
after  this  Uncle  John  caught  a  hard  cold  himself, 
which  was  accompanied  by  a  most  distressing  cough 
that  shook  his  poor  frame  unmercifully.  It  did  not, 
however,  prevent  his  coming  down-town  and  *^  set- 
tinV*  as  he  called  it,  in  Ike's  market.  The  cold 
hung  on  for  a  week  or  more,  and  the  cough  had 
grown  no  better.  Finally  one  day  Ike  resolved  to 
brave  Uncle  John's  sharp  tongue,  and  tease  him  a 
little  about  his  failure  to  rid  himself  of  the  cold, 
and  the  following  dialogue  ensued.  You  are  to 
understand  that  Uncle  John's  replies  were  inter- 
rupted with  violent  coughing. 

«  John  ? » 

«What  yer  want  ?  » 

«  Got  a  bad  cold,  'aint  ye  ? » 

"Yes;  got  the  wust  ever  had'n  my  life.* 

"  Hangs  on  pretty  bad,  don't  it  ?  * 

«Yes;  beats  all  h— 1.» 

Hesitatingly,  "  Why  don't  you  try  some  o'  y'r 
cough  med'cine  you  wanted  ter  sell  me  ?  * 

"  Thought  mebbe  y'  was  fool  'noughter  ask  that 
question;  d'yer  s'pose  I  want  ter  live  forever?* 


112  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

REMEDIES  FOR  GRIP 

)HE  prevalent  grip  is  a  versatile   disease;    but 
there    are    many  remedies  for    it,   as  a  pe- 
rusal of  the  advertising  columns  of  the  news- 
papers will  show.      The  business  announce- 
ments read  something  like  this:  — 

«  Try  Sourmash's  Old  Rye  Whiskey  for  Grip.  It 
is  a  specific.'* 

"  Take  home  a  brick  of  Codling's  ice-cream  in 
your  hat.  It  is  the  best  grip  medicine  in  the  mar- 
ket.» 

^^  Bulber's  azure  pills  for  blue  people  will  cure  the 
worst  cases  of  grip  in  twenty-four  hours.  Try  a  box. 
At  all  druggists.'* 

^*  Messrs.  Key  &  Pedal  confidently  recommend 
their  new  grand  pianos  as  a  grip  specific.  Send  one 
home  to  your  wife  or  daughter,  and  see  how  quickly 
she  will  be  well.'* 

"  Sheddem's  new  steel-rod  umbrella  is  the  best 
for  grip  convalescents.     Keep  dry.* 

«Read  <  Tales  by  a  Truthteller,  *  Spyker's  latest 
book,  and  you  will  not  have  the  grip." 

^*  Buy  a  lot  in  Renter's  addition  to  Lonelyville. 
Guaranteed  to  be  free  from  mosquitos,  malaria,  and 
grip." 

"  Grip  convalescents,  on  their  way  South,  should 
buy  one  of  Tenterhook's  celebrated  gripsacks.  Cheap- 
est and  best." 

*  Take  a  trip  on  Dimling's  personally  conducted 
tours  to  the  South  Sea  Islands.  This  jaunt  will  posi- 
tively cure  grip." 

The  above  are  only  specimens.  For  full  particu- 
lars see  the  daily  newspapers. 

—  William  Henry  Siviter. 


A  clergyman  asked  a  boy  if  he  ever  had  been 
baptised.  "  No,  sir, "  said  the  lad,  "  not  as  I  knows 
of,  but  I've  been  waxinated?'* 


THE  REMEDY  I13 

A   COMPLETE   CURE 

HEN  Colonel  Brackett  was  in  command  at 
Whipple  Barracks  in  1884,  there  was  an 
I'^N  admirer  of  his  named  Sidney,  who  used 
to  give  him  considerable  uneasiness  by 
his  attentions.  One  day  while  the  colonel  was 
walking  out  he  met  Sidney,  and  accosted  him. 

«Well,  Sidney,  ^>  said  he,  «I  see  you  are  able  to 
get  about.      I  heard  you  were  quite  sick." 

«No,»  said  Sidney;  « but  Sam  Penrose  says  my 
jaw  is  looser  than  common." 

« That's  it.  I  knew  there  was  something  the 
matter.     You  have  got  the  Vox  Populi." 

<<  Is  it  dangerous  ?  "  queried  Sidney. 

<<Well  not  very,  if  taken  in  time." 

« What  had  I  better  do  ?  " 

*You  go  and  see  a  doctor  at  once." 

And  away  went  Sidney  to  find  a  doctor,  and 
having  found  one,  told  him  what  the  colonel  had 
said,  upon  which  the  doctor  looked  very  wise,  and 
remarked  that  there  was  no  great  danger  unless  it 
reached  his  Vox  Dei. 

«  Can  you  give  me  something  for  it  ? "  inquired 
Sidney. 

«  Oh  yes,"  answered  the  doctor.  ^^  Here  is  a  Lex 
Talionis  which  will  cure  you, "  and  handing  Sidney 
a  dose  of  medicine,  he  sent  him  on  his  way  re- 
joicing. 

Alas,  that  the  most  patent  of  remedial  agents 
should  so  often  fail  to  produce  relief!  A  physician 
in  Irasburg,  Vermont,  was  called  on  to  prescribe 
for  a  patient  with  a  bad  finger.  The  good  woman 
who  was  suffering  from  its  pain  said  to  the  prac- 
titioner, ^*  At  fust  I  put  on  courtin'  plaster,  and  then 
burned  it  with  lunatic  costar,  but  it  didn't  seem  to 
do  no  good."  Too  bad!  But  as  they  say  down 
there,   ^*  some  pork  will  bile  so. " 

D.L.H. — 8 


114  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

THE   GOOD   OLD   NOSTRUMS 

E  CANNOT  wonder  that  children  died  when 
we  know  the  nostrums  with  which  they 
were  dosed.  They  were  quack  medi- 
cines which  held  sway  for  a  century, 
among  them  a  valuable  property,  Daffy's  Elixir. 
These  patented  —  or,  rather,  secret  —  medicines  had 
a  formidable  rival  in  snail-water,  which  was  used 
as  a  tonic  and  also  a  lotion.  Many  of  the  ingre- 
dients and  extracts  used  in  domestic  medicines 
were  incredibly  revolting.  Venice  treacle  was  a 
nasty  and  popular  compound,  traditionally  invented 
by  Nero's  physician.  It  was  made  of  vipers,  white 
wine,  opium,  "spices  from  both  the  Indies,*  lic- 
orice, red  roses,  tops  of  gerymander  and  St.  John's 
wort,  and  some  twenty  other  herbs,  juice  of  rough 
sloes,  mixed  with  honey  "  triple  the  weight  of  all 
the  dry  spices.*  The  recipe  is  published  in  dis- 
pensatories till  within  this  century.  The  vipers 
had  to  be  put,  "twelve  of  'em,*  into  white  wine 
alone.  Mithridate,  the  ancient  cure-all  of  King 
Mithridates,  was  another  dose  for  children.  There 
were  forty-five  ingredients  in  this,  each  prepared 
and  introduced  with  care.  Rubila,  made  chiefly  of 
antimony  and  nitre,  was  beloved  of  the  Winthrops, 
and  frequently  dispensed  by  them  —  and  with 
benefit. 

— Alice  Morse  Earle,  «  Child  Life  in  Colonial  Days?^ 


WHY    NOT 

The  Doctor  —  "I  don't  like  to  confess  it,  but  I 
ate  too  much  Belgian  hare  for  dinner  last  evening, 
and  I  am  suffering  somewhat  from  indigestion.  * 

The  Professor  —  "  It's  not  my  business  to  pre- 
scribe for  you,  but  if  you  believe  like  cures  like 
why  don't  you  eat  a  Welsh  rabbit  ?  * 


THE  REMEDY  115 


DANGEROUS    MEDICINE 

THE  mystery  in  which  the  doings  of  a  doctor, 
scientist,  or  inventor  are  clothed,  to  the  igno- 
rant mind,  is  the  occasion  of  as  many  surprises  as 
there  are  new  things.  An  elderly  woman  in  one 
of  the  simple  homes  in  the  Tennessee  Mountains 
was  sick.  The  medicine  that  the  doctor  prescribed 
was  in  the  modern,  convenient  form  of  capsules. 
The  patient  trusted  her  medical  adviser,  but  re- 
garded the  medicine  with  suspicion.  She  had  heard 
about  the  terrible  dynamite  cartridge.  Some  time 
after  she  had  taken  the  capsules,  her  daughter  in- 
quired how  she  felt. 

*  Mighty  po'ly,  '^  was  the  reply. 

"  Don't  you  want  something  to  eat  ?  ** 

«  No. » 

Soon  the  mother  sat  up  in  her  rocking  chair. 
Thinking  the  attention  would  be  gratefully  received, 
the  daughter  filled  her  pipe  with  fragrant  ^^  baccy,  *' 
and  taking  a  live  coal  from  the  hearth,  carried 
both  to  her  mother. 

A  scream  of  fear  came  from  the  old  woman. 
**  Take  it  away,  chile !  Don't  you  come  near  me 
with  that  fire  while  I've  got  those  cartridges  in  me!  '* 


EPITAPH 

Here  lyes  ye  Victim,  of  La  Grippe 
Who  died  eftsoon.     Let  this  suffice: 

Forsoothe,  less  of  ye  Monster's  nippe 
Than  from  hys  Friends'  advice. 


FREE    MEDICAL    ADVICE 

"  Now,  doctor,'^  he  said,  as  he  joined  the  med- 
ical gentleman  in  the  street,  ^^  in  the  case  of  a  man 
who  can't  sleep  at  night  what  would   you  advise  ?'^ 

*  I  would  advise  him  to  sleep  in  the  daytime.  ^^ 


Il6  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE   HOUR 


THE    GLASS    CURE 

Pennsylvania  doctor  had  an  Irish  woman  for 
a  patient  for  many  years.  He  once  pulled 
her  through  a  lingering  attack  of  typhoid  fever, 
and,  of  course,  took  her  temperature  from  time  to 
time  by  having  her  hold  a  thermometer  under  her 
tongue.  When  she  had  nearly  recovered,  he  called 
one  day,  left  a  simple  prescription  and  started 
homeward.  About  three  miles  from  her  house  he 
was  overtaken  by  her  son  on  horseback.  "  Mother 
is  worse,  ^^  said  the  boy ;  "  come  right  back.  >*  Back 
the  doctor  went. 

**  Docther,  *^  said  the  old  lady  reproachfully,  as, 
he  entered  the  sick  room,  **why  did  ye  not  give 
me  the  jigger  undher  my  tongue  ?  That  did  me 
more  gud  than  all  the  rest  of  yer  trash !  ** 


A    SURE    CURE 

DN  ONE  of  the  black-land  counties  of  South  Texas 
is  a  negro  doctor,  who  enjoys  a  more  or  less 
extensive  practice  among  the  colored  population, 
which  composes  a  majority  of  the  citizenship.  A 
white  physician  accosted  him  on  the  road  the  other 
day,  saying:  *^Well,  Dr.  Sam,  where  have  you 
been  ?  * 

*  Been  to  see  Bill  Johnsing,  sah.  He  was  wras- 
lin'  wid  Mose  Jones  an'  bus'  a  blood- wessel. '^ 

**  Indeed,  that's  serious.  What  did  you  pre- 
scribe ? " 

*  Ah !  I  done  fix  him  all  right,  wid  alum  and 
gum  arable.  Alum  to  draw  the  phats  togeddah 
and  de  gum  to  stick  'em.'* 

It  may  be  interesting  to  add  that  the  victim 
recovered. 


THE   REMEDY  117 


A  MUSTARD   PLASTER 

TT^RESS  me  closer,  all  mine  own, 

Li?       Warms  my  heart  for  thee  alone. 

Ever  responsive  thrills. 

Each  caress  my  being  fills; 

Rest  and  peace  in  vain  I  crave, 

In  ecstasy  I  live,  thy  slave; 

Dower'd  with  hope,  with  promise  blest. 

Thou  dost  reign  upon  my  breast; 

Closer  still,  for  I  am  thine, 

Burns  my  heart,  for  thou  art  mine; 

Thou  the  message,  I  the  wire, 

I  the  furnace,  thou  the  fire; 

I  the  servant,  thou  the  master  — 

Roaring,  red-hot  mustard  plaster. 

—  Burdette. 


THE    REMEDY 

The  Physician  —  *^\  find  that  your  wife  has  been 
in  a  melancholy  state,  bordering-  on  hysteria,  as  you 
know,  and  when  I  insisted  upon  knowing  the  cause, 
she  confided  to  nie  that  it  was  due  to  worry  about 
your  affairs.  Her  tenderness  for  you  has  led  her 
to  fear  that  under  the  enormous  burden  of  your 
family  expenses  you  might  break  down.  This  has 
caused   her  collapse.** 

Fi^w  y^Kif/^r—"  Well,  well!  Poor  girl!  Now  doc- 
tor, what  would  you  advise  ?  ** 

The  Physician  —  <^  She  says,  and  I  am  inclined 
to  agree  with  her,  that  nothing  but  a  trip  to  Eu- 
rope will  do  her  any  good." 


NOT  A  GOOD   IDEA 

A  Friend — ^<  If  you  love  her,  old  fellow,  why 
don't  you  marry  her  ?  ** 

Bachelor  Doctor  — **  Marry  her  ?  Why,  she  is 
one  of  my  best  patients.* 


Il8  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

DT  IS  seldom  that  one  can  present  to  medical  read- 
ers so  fine  a  series  of  new  formula  as  are  com- 
prehended in  the  following,  prescribed  by  an 
eminent  Wisconsin  practitioner,  and  sent  by  one  of 
the  principal  druggers  of  La  Crosse.  Have  the 
kindness  to  note  the  delicate  drops  of  science  that 
trickle  through  the  subjoined:  — 

for  Krup  medisen 
I  dramm  ov  annt  ti  moonneymetic 
ate  drops  tingtur  eppakak 
a  litle  peece  of  lickerrish 
Pownd   ital   toogether   and   put   init   hav   of  a  pint   of 
surrop   take  a  sponful   evry  fifteen   minnits  and  it  wil 
make  the  child  pewke. 

for  sik  hoss 
take  5  sents  wuth  ruberb 
2  sents  wuth  calomey 
4  sents  wuth  sulfur 

give  the  hoss  encet  a  day  when  the  hoss  gets  fissicked 
hold  up  on  the  medason. 

pane  in  the  jints 
take  oil  of  angelwurms  and 
oil  of  organ,  i  ownses 
sperrits  of  turbentine  ditto 
tinctur  of  red  peppers  ditto 
aquamony  i  ownses 
put  into  a  bottil  with  a  pint  of  alkehawl  aply  twicet  a 
day  for  rumites  and  panes  any  wher. 

for  colery 
take  lodlum 

pepmint  essents 
tinkter  Kyan  peper 
Kamfire 

rubarb  surrup  ecual  parts 
dos  a  spuneful  oncet  an  our  til  the  panes  are  gon  and 
the  diaree  is  stopt. 


THE  REMEDY  119 


A  MATTER  OF  TASTE 

Doctor — ^*  Did  you  take  the  rhubarb  I  ordered  ?  * 

Patient  — *•'-  Yes,  sir.  ** 

Doctor — "How  did  you  take  it?'^ 

Patient — "In  a  pie.^^ 


An  Irishman  who  was  very  ill,  when  the  phy- 
sician told  him  that  he  must  prescribe  an  emetic 
for  him,  said :  "  Indeed,  doctor,  an  emetic  will 
never  do  me  any  good,  for  I  have  taken  several, 
and  could  never  keep  one  of  them  on  my  stomach.  ** 


A  MAN  living  in  the  country  far  from  any  phy- 
sician was  taken  suddenly  ill.  His  family,  in  great 
alarm,  not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  sent  for  a 
neighbor  who  had  a  reputation  for  doctoring  cows. 

"  Can't  you  give  father  something  to  help  him?* 
asked  one  of  the  sons. 

"Wa'al,  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  doctorin' 
people.* 

"  You  know  more  than  we  do,  for  you  can  doc- 
tor cows.  Now  what  do  you  give  them  when 
they're  sick  ?  * 

"  Wa'al,  I  allers  give  cows  salts  —  Epsom  salts. 
You  might  try  that  on  him.* 

"  How  much  shall  we  give  him  ?  *  inquired  the 
son. 

"  Wa'al,  I  give  the  cows  jest  a  pound.  I  sup- 
pose a  man  is  a  quarter  as  big  as  a  cow  —  give 
him  a  quarter  of  a  pound !  * 


*The  tocsin  of  war,*  remarked  the  observer  of 
men  and  things,  "  is  doubtless  the  only  effectual 
anti-toxin  for  the  war  fever.* 


I20  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

A  YOUNG  lady  with  a  touch  of  tonsillitis  was  con- 
sulting the  family  physician. 

"That  is  nothing  serious/^  said  he.  "I'll  touch 
it  up  with  a  little  nitrate  of  silver  and  you  will  be 
all  right. » 

The  young  lady  looked  a  bit  doubtful. 

"  Oh,  it  won't  hurt,  '*  remarked  the  doctor,  reas- 
suringly. 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  that.     Papa  might  object.  * 

"  Why,  what  possible  objection  can  he  have  ?  '* 

"  I  heard  him  tell  mamma  the  other  evening 
that  he  was  opposed  to  silver.  Couldn't  you  use 
nitrate  of  gold  ?  Silver  is  so  common  and  cheap, 
you  know,  and  I  am  sure  papa  wouldn't  object  then.  '^ 


To  VACCINATE  or  not,  that  is  the  question! 
Whether  'tis  better  for  a  man  to  suffer 
The  painful  pangs  and  lasting  scars  of  smallpox, 
Or  to  bare  arms  before  the  surgeon's  lancet. 
And,  by  being  vaccinated,  end  them.     Yes! 
To  feel  the  tiny  point,  and  say  we  end 
The  chance  of  many  a  thousand  awful  scars 
That  flesh  is  heir  to — 'tis  a  consummation 
Devoutedly  to  be  wished.     Ah !  soft,  you,  now, 
The  vaccinator!    Sir,  upon  thy  rounds. 
Be  my  poor  arm   remembered. 

— Dr.  J.  F.  Edwards. 


A  LITTLE  five-year-old  daughter  of  Dr.  Pickens 
Taylor,  of  Georgia,  was  taken  down  with  a  spell 
of  intermittent.  It  became  necessary  to  administer 
quinine,  which  he  did  in  the  form  of  small  capsules. 
In  order  to  induce  her  to  take  them  he  told  her 
that  they  were  "little  humming-birds'  eggs,  and 
were  very  nice.^*  When  the  quinine  had  taken  ef- 
fect, she  told  her  father,  with  great  glee,  that  the 
little  birds  had  hatched,  and  were  singing  in  her 
head. 


i 


A  Bribe 


THE  REMEDY  121 


LARGE  DOSES 

Fortieth  Friend  (since  breakfast)  —  *  By  Jove  ! 
Old  fellow,  you've  got  a  fearful  cold  !  What  are 
you  taking  for  it  ? " 

Sufferer  (hoarsely)  —  *^  Advice.  '* 


^*  Can  God  cure  my  cold  ?  >*  asked  little  four- 
year-old  Jimmy. 

«  Yes,  dear,  if  you  ask  him,»  replied  his  mother. 

Next  day  Jimmy's  cold  was  worse.  <^  Mamma," 
snuffled  he,  <<God  don't  seem  to  be  doing  much 
about  my  cold.* 


She— ''Take  care,  Alfred!  That  isn't  the  rem- 
edy for  seasickness.  Don't  you  see  the  bottle  is 
marked  poison  ?  " 

He  —  "That's  the  one  I  want." 


Young  Lady  Patient  —  «  Doctor,  what  do  you  do 
when  you  burn  your  mouth  with  hot  coffee  ? " 
Doctor —  "  Swear  !  " 


There  is  a  village  in  Michigan,  where  the  church 
bell  is  rung  every  day  at  12  o'clock,  for  the  people 
to  take  their  quinine  to  ward  off  chills. 


A  DOCTOR  was  asked  what  he  would  do  first  in 
the  case  of  a  man  who  was  blown  up  by  gun- 
powder. "I  should  wait  until  he  came  down,"  he 
replied. 


122  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

First  Pesant  — *•'■  You  go  to  vaccinate  your  little  ?  * 

Second  Pesant  —  ^*  But  yes !  * 

F.  P. —  "You  have  much  wrong!* 

5.  P._«For  why?» 

F.  P. —  ^^  There  was  my  cousin  who  has  made  to 
vaccinate  the  hers  —  that  has  it  not  prevented 
to  die !  » 

S.  /'._«0f  the  little  pox  ?  » 

F.  P. —  *^  But  no!     He   has   himself   drowned    in 

the  sea !  * 

— Paris  Journal  Amusant. 


THE  DESPERATE  CASE 

Because  all  the  sick  do  not  recover,  therefore  medicine  is  not  an  art. 

—  Cicero. 


IT  WAS   HOT 

OCTOR   Magruder,  our   worthy   ex-Mayor,  is 
one  of  those  physicians  who  act  upon  the 
rule  of  « laugh  and  get  well. »     He  is  never 
without  a  joke  for  or  against  some  of   his 
patients.       I    shall    endeavor    to    give    one    of    his 
stories,  as  nearly  as  possible  in  his  own  words:  — 
«  I  was   once    called   out  to  attend   a   man   in  a 
little  country  village  who  had  swallowed   sulphuric 
acid.     I  prescribed   magnesia;    but   there   being  no 
drug.store   in    the  village,   I  was   compelled   to   ad- 
minister  saleratus    as   the   most   convenient   substi- 
tute.     Imagine  my  horror  when  the  patient  began 
to  swell  visibly  under  my  eyes!     He  complained  of 
a  burning   heat   in  the   stomach,  and  seemed  to  be 
in   the    very  throes   of   dissolution.     I  was   terribly 
frightened,  but  had  some  consolation  in  the  remem- 
brance that  my  first   prescription  had  been  for  the 
true    antidote.     At    last,    fortunately,   vomiting    en- 
sued;  and,  of  course,  as  the   mingled  acid  and  sal- 
eratus   met    the    air    a    violent    effervescence    took 
place.      The   patient    saw   the    bubbling   mass,   and 
turning  to  me  with  the  queerest  expression  of  pain 
and  wonder,  gasped   out,   <  Doctor,  I   knew   it   was 
hot;   but  I  didn't  think  it  would  boil!  >  » 


TELLING    HIM    THE    WORST 

His   Uncle's  Heir— <' -Doctor,  tell  me  the  worst." 
Doctor  (f eeHngly)  _  «  Your  uncle  will  get  well.» 

(123) 


124  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

A  HOPELESS  CASE 

Doctor — "You  must  give  up  drinking  and " 

Mr.  Sickly  —  "I  never  touch  a  drop. ** 

Doctor  —  "And  stop  smoking.^' 

Mr.  Sickly— ''I  don't  smoke. » 

Doctor  —  "Humph!  that's  bad;  if  you  haven't 
anything  to  give  up,  I'm  afraid  I  can't  do  much 
for  you.'* 

A  CURATIVE   QUOTATION 

l^giji — «i  understandt  dot  old  Grabbenheimer 
ish  still  alive.* 

Swindlebaum — "Oh,  yase;  undt  it  ish  expegted 
dot  he  vill  get  veil,  after  all.  You  see,  he  vas  ly- 
ing at  der  poindt  uf  death  ven  der  doctor  said 
somedings  apoudt  his  paying  der  debt  uf  nature, 
undt  he  rose  righdt  up  undt  called   for  his  pants.* 


UNFAVORABLE   SYMPTOMS 

Physician  (to  Mrs.  Colonel  Blood,  of  Kentucky) 
—  "How  did  your  husband  pass  the  night,  Mrs. 
Blood  ? » 

Mrs.  Blood — "  He  seemed  quite  comfortable, 
sir,  and  asked  for   water  several  times.* 

Physician  (with  a  grave  look) — "  H'm  —  still 
flighty.* 


TO   BE   SETTLED  LATER 

"Doctor,*  said  the  sick  man,  "the  other  phy- 
sicians who  have  been  in  consultation  over  my 
case  seem  to  differ  with  you  in   the  diagnosis.* 

"I  know  they  do,*  replied  the  doctor,  who  has 
great  confidence  in  himself,  "but  the  autopsy  will 
show  who  was  right.* 


THE  DESPERATE  CASE  125 


AN    URGENT   CASE 

Poor  Patient  —  <' I  sent  for  you,  doctor,  because 
I  know  you  are  a  noted  physician;  but  I  feel  it 
my  duty  to  inform  you  that  I  haven't  over  twenty- 
five  dollars  to  my   name.** 

Dr.  Bigg  fee — «  Very  well,  then;  we  must  try 
to  cure  you  up  as  quickly  as  possible.** 


PREFERRED    DEATH   TO   DISCOMFORT 

Doctor  Di  Plovia — «  Great  Goodness,  De  Long! 
Are  you  still  in  the  city?  Didn't  I  tell  you  a 
month  ago  you  would  have  to  go  South,  or  die  ? 
You  look  worse  than  ever.** 

De  Long — ^^Yes,  I  know;  I  paid  you  for  that 
advice,  and  tried  it.  Now,  what  would  you  charge 
to  let  me  die  —  in  New  York  ?  ** 


HOOD  used  to  tell  a  story  of  a  hypochondriac  who 
was  in  the  habit,  two  or  three  times  a  week,  of 
believing  himself  dying.  On  a  certain  occasion  he 
was  taken  ill  with  one  of  his  terrors  while  riding 
out  in  his  gig,  and  happening  at  the  time  to  see  in 
the  road  ahead  his  family  physician  riding  in  his 
carriage  in  the  same  direction,  he  applied  the  whip 
to  his  horse  to  overtake  the  old  doctor  as  soon  as 
he  possibly  could.  The  doctor,  however,  seeing  him 
coming,  applied  the  whip  to  his  own  horse  and  as 
he  had  a  nag  that  was  considered  a  "goer,**  they  had 
a  close  time  of  it  for  about  three  miles.  But  the 
hypochondriac,  driving  a  fast  horse,  finally  came 
alongside  of  the  doctor,  and  exclaimed:  "Hang  it, 
doctor,  pull  up  —  pull  up  instantly.  I  am  dying.** 
«I  think  you  are,**  cried  the  doctor;  "I  never  saw 
any  one  going  so  fast.** 


126  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE  HOUR 


WHAT    PERPLEXED    HIM 

Smith  —  ^^  So  you  don't  know  what  ails  you. 
Haven't  you  been  to  see  a  doctor  ? " 

Jones — <<Yes;  that's  just  the  trouble  —  I've  been 
to  see  six !  " 


EVERYONE  knew  old  Dr.  Balfour.  He  was  a  good 
man  and  a  pious.  Yet  could  he  swear  when 
occasion  was  ripe.  Only  a  few  days  before  his 
death  he  visited  a  patient  who  had  been  bedridden 
for  some  time  and  asked  for  his  health. 

« Oh,  poorly,  poorly.  Doctor,  ^^  the  sick  man 
moaned. 

«  Did  you  take  the  medicine  I  sent  you  ?  '* 

«  Oh,  Doctor,  it  ain't  medicine  I  need.  What  I 
need  is  prayer,  prayer,  prayer !  '* 

"Well,  I'll  pray  for  you,^^  cheerily  said  the 
doctor,  and  down  on  his  knees  he  went,  praying 
fervently  and  with  zeal. 

"  Now,  do  you  feel  better  ?  Are  you  going  to 
take  that  medicine  ? "  he  said  when  he  had  risen. 

**No,  Doctor,*^  whined  the  patient,  "I  reckon 
not.» 

*<  Then  die  and  be  d d !  ^^  exclaimed  the  good 

physician,  unable  longer  to  stand  the  strain,  and 
out  he  walked,  raging  like  a  lion. 


Old  Lady  — "  Doctor,  do  you  think  there  is  any- 
thing the  matter  with  my  lungs  ?  ^^ 

Physician  (after  a  careful  examination)  —  "I  find, 
madam,  that  your  lungs  are  in  a  normal  con- 
dition. * 

Old  Lady  (with  a  sigh  of  resignation)  —  *  And 
about  how  long  can  I  expect  to  live  with  them  in 
that  condition  ?  ** 


THE  DESPERATE  CASE  127 

This  comes  from  Jacksonville,  Florida:  — 
During  the   sickness  in   our  city  last  fall  one  of 

our    citizens,    Frank     J ,    was     prostrated    with 

fever,  and  little  hope  was  entertained  of  his  recov- 
ery. He  was  fully  conscious  of  his  critical  con- 
dition, but,  being  an  incorrigible  wag,  perpetrated 
the  following.  The  poor  fellow  was  in  such  danger 
that  two  eminent  physicians  were  in  constant  at- 
tendance. One  evening  Dr.  Drew  called,  and,  sit- 
ting on  one  side  of  the  bed,  was  inquiring  into  the 
condition  of  the  patient,  when  in  walked  Dr.  Sabal, 
and,  taking  an  extended  hand,  sat  on  the  other 
side  of  the  bed.  For  a  moment  there  was  silence, 
when  the  prostrate  man  said :  — 

"  Death  sits  secure  on  either  hand : 
While  Jordan  rolls  between.*^ 

Both  M.  D.'s  smiled  audibly;  the  crisis  was  over, 
and  J now  pursues  his  avocation  in  Jackson- 
ville as  of  yore. 


Medical  certificates  of  physical  disability  are  so 
frequently  introduced  into  courts  by  lawyers  that  it 
may  be  pardonable  to  reproduce  the  following,  writ- 
ten by  an  army  surgeon  during  our  late  unpleas- 
antness :  — 
<*  Major  William  Watson  : 

"Dear  Sir  —  Private  Wilkins  a  member  of  your  regi- 
ment is  very  unwell.  He  has  been  Sick  for  four  weeks 
or  more,  and  is  still  in  bed,  and  I  do  Honestly  believe 
that  his  life  will  be  endangered  for  I  have  been  his 
attending  Physician.     Veryresp., 

«  Felix  Jones,  M.D,» 


Doctor  —  "  What's  the  patient's  pulse  ?  '* 
Nurse —  "  Twenty-five.  *' 

Doctor —  "  Heavens!    Why,  the  man  won't  live  an 
hour!  * 

Nurse  —  **  This  man  is  from  Philadelphia.  ** 


128  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

Irish  Doctor  —  **  I've  knocked  the  fever  out  of 
him.     That  is  one  good  thing!  ^^ 

Wife  of  Patient — "Oh,  doctor,  do  you  think 
there  is  any  hope  ?  ** 

Doctor — "  Small  chance  of  that,  marm:  but  ye'll 
have  the  satisfaction  of  knowin'  that  he  died  cured.  *^ 


Kind  Inquirer — ^*  And  'ow  be  the  old  man,  Mrs. 
Quaggins  ?  * 

Mrs.  Quaggins — "  Thankee  kindly,  but  I'm  afeared 
'ee  be  mortal  bad.  Doctor  'ee  do  say  as  'ow  if  'ee 
live  to  morning  'e'll  'ave  some  'opes  of  'ee;  but  if 
'ee  doant  'ee's  afeared  'ee  must  give  'ee  up.  * 


Physician  (to  patient)  —  "  Your  case  is  a  very  seri- 
ous one,  sir,  and  I  think  a  consultation  had  better  be 
held.» 

Patient  (too  sick  to  care  for  anything)  — "  Very 
well,  doctor,  have  as  many  accomplices  as  you 
like.» 


THE   OPERATION 


IVounds  cannot  be  cured  unless  they  are  probed. 

—  Livy. 


SURGERY    BY    STEAM 

LD  Sabattus  was  not  an  Indian,  as  the  nick- 
name implies,  but  a  Yankee  guide.  One 
autumn  he  was  left  on  a  steamboat  at  one 
of  the  upper  landings  on  Moosehead  Lake  while 
the  engineer  went  ashore  with  some  guests.  A  man 
named  Meservey  came  aboard,  and  in  fooling 
around  the  boat  managed  to  fall  into  the  firepit, 
and  put  his  shoulder  out  of  joint.  Here  was  a 
dilemma.  The  other  members  of  the  party  would 
not  be  back  for  nearly  an  hour,  and  the  injured  man 
was  in  great  pain.  The  guide  was  a  man  of  ex- 
pedients. He  got  a  rope  and  tied  his  patient  se- 
curely to  a  post.  Then  he  tied  another  rope  around 
the  man's  wrist  and  fastened  the  loose  end  of  it  to 
a  pulley  of  the  engine.  He  managed  somehow  to 
turn  on  steam,  and  the  pulley  began  to  wind  up 
the  rope.  It  drew  the  arm  out  tight  in  beautiful 
shape,  and  presently  the  joint  snapped  back  into 
its  socket.  Then  Sabattus  jumped  around  to  shut 
off  steam,  while  the  pulley  kept  on  winding.  ^*  How 
does  it  go  ?  I  don't  know  where  it  is !  '^  gasped  the 
guide,  excitedly.  ^^  I  can't  stop  the  blamed  thing.  *^ 
And  the  pulley  meanwhile  was  slowly,  but  surely 
pulling  the  patient  to  pieces.  His  eyes  were  stick- 
ing out  of  their  sockets,  and  he  screamed  and 
gasped  for  breath.  Sabattus  danced  around  like 
a  wild  man,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  when  he 
D.L.H. — 9  (129) 


130  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

happened  to  spy  a  hatchet  lying  near,  and,  jumping 
for  that,  he  cut  the  rope. 

Some  years  after  that  a  lot  of  summer  company 
arrived  at  Greenville,  Sabattus  was  there,  too,  and 
presently  a  distinguished  looking  man,  one  of  the 
newcomers,  went  up  to  him  and  said,  with  a  mean- 
ing smile,  "  Aren't  you  the  man  who  practices  sur- 
gery by  steam  ?  ** 

Sabattus  admitted  that  he  was  *  that  same  feller.  * 


WHY  THE  OPERATION   WAS  NOT 
PERFORMED 

Doctor  Sawyer  (in  consultation)  — "  Now,  Dr. 
Payne,  you  wait  till  I  saw  him  open,  and  den  you 
kin  take  the  gastongs  and  grab  his  liver,  while  Dr. 
Sharpe  kin  chop  into  * 

The  Patient  —  **  Hoi'  on  dere,  doc !  I  feel  so 
weil  dat  I  doan  believe  dey's  anything  de  matter 
wid  me  'cept  jus'  laziness  an'  shif 'lessness.'^  {His 
diagnosis  was  right.') 


A  BEAUTIFUL   CASE 

Patient  (who  has  met  with  an  accident)  —  **  Is  it 
a  bad  fracture,  doctor?  ** 

Doctor  (a  surgical  enthusiast) — <*  Bad?  Why,  it's 
beautiful,  sir,  beautiful!  The  bone  is  broken  in 
not  less  than  thirteen  places !  *^ 


THE   POINT  OF  VIEW 

Patient — ^^The  examination  seems  to  have  de- 
lighted you,  Doctor.  I  judge  from  your  happy 
countenance  that  you  can  save  my  life,^* 

Dr.  Sawbones  — ^^  I  cannot  promise  you  that ;  but 
we  must  perform  a  number  of  most  interesting 
operations  on  you.** 


THE  OPERATION  131 

A   DELICATE  OPERATION 

(T  IS  a  good  thing  to  be  a  doctor.  When 
rheums  and  little  anguishes  afflict,  he  is 
your  friend  —  for  a  consideration,  which, 
out  West,  he  takes  in  cash,  or  something 
else  when  coin  is  not  obtainable.  Now  they  have 
in  Pueblo,  Colorado,  a  practitioner  who  is  ever 
ready  to  rush  in  in  case  of  ache  or  accident.  Re- 
cently a  slight  smash  happened  to  Mr.  Jeff  Steele, 
some  fifteen  miles  from  Pueblo,  up  the  Fontaine. 
He  was  thrown  from  his  carriage,  near  the  resi- 
dence of  Mr,  Royce,  to  whose  house  he  was  taken 
in  a  state  of  apparent  insensibility.  An  aged  phy- 
sician residing  a  little  way  up  the  creek  was  im- 
mediately sent  for,  who  came  posthaste  to  the  aid 
of  the  sufferer.  After  feeling  of  the  young  man's 
pulse,  and  heaving  three  or  four  long-drawn  sighs, 
the  doctor  turned  to  Miss  Alice,  daughter  of  Mr. 
Royce,  and  inquired, 

"  Have  you  any  fresh  eggs? " 

**  Oh  yes,  plenty  of  them,  doctor,  '*  said  Alice. 

**  Well,  **  said  the  doctor,  ^^  get  two,  and  separate 
the  whites  from  the  yolks,  and  beat  them  up 
thoroughly  in  different  vessels.'* 

Alice,  aided  by  her  little  brother,  set  about  the 
task  with  alacrity,  which  she  soon  accomplished, 
full  of  faith  that  the  sufferer  was  soon  to  be  re- 
lieved from  his  pains  and  brought  to  his  senses. 

"Now,  doctor,"  said  Alice,  "your  eggs  are 
ready;  what  next?* 

"  Thanks,  '*  said  the  doctor ;  "  have  you  any  good 
whisky?  —  or  wine  will  do.'* 

The  wine  was  accordingly  forthcoming  in  a 
twinkle. 

"  Now  get  me  a  tumbler,  please,  **  said  the  doc- 
tor. 

The  young  people  eyed  the  doctor  closely,  won- 
dering what  miracle  he  was  about  to  perform  with 


132  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE  HOUR 

the  eggs  and  wine.  Presently  the  doctor  took  the 
tumbler,  rinsed  it  out  carefully,  turned  into  it  first 
the  yolks  and  then  the  whites  of  the  eggs,  took  a 
teaspoon  and  stirred  them  well  together,  then  filled 
the  glass  to  the  brim  with  the  wine,  shook  it  up 
well,  and,  thoughtfully  surveying  the  mixture  a 
moment  with  an  air  of  supreme  satisfaction,  put 
the  tumbler  to  his  lips  and  drained  it  to  the  bot- 
tom. Setting  the  tumbler  on  the  table,  the  doctor 
smacked  his  lips  a  couple  of  times,  and  then  coolly 
remarked : 

*  We//,  my  friends,  Jeff  is  pretty  bad/y  hurt^ 
hut,  /et  me  assure  you,  lie  is  by  no  means  dan- 
gerous!* 


MANY   DOLLARS 

"  What  did  your  uncle,  the  famous  surgeon, 
give  you  for  your  birthday  ?  ** 

'^  He  gave  me  my  appendicitis  operation. 
Wasn't  it  dear  of  him  ?  * 


HE  WANTED   A  W  H  ISK  Y  «SLI  NG» 

TJie  Surgeon  — ^*  Miss  Jinkins,  you  may  bring  a 
sling.      This  man's  arm  is  pretty  badly  fractured.** 

T/ie  Patient  — *^  An',  miss,  av  ye  plaze,  put 
more  phiskey  than  wather  in  it.** 


A  SURGEON  being  called  to  see  a  man  who  had 
been  slightly  wounded,  ordered  his  servant  to  has- 
ten home  and  bring  a  certain  plaster.  The  patient 
turned  pale,  and  said :  **  I  hope  there  is  no  danger.  ** 
*  Yes,  indeed,  there  is,  **  answered  the  surgeon ;  ^^  if 
the  fellow  don't  hurry,  the  wound  will  heal  before 
he  returns.** 


THE   OPERATION  133 

CELEBRATED  surgcoii  uscd  to  tell  a  story,  which 
many  who  were  so  happy  as  to  be  admitted 
to  his  intimacy  will  at  once  recognize  as  his,  though 
we  have  heard  it  told  as  original  by  other  lips.  A 
Portuguese,  whose  English  words  were  as  rare  as 
they  were  imperfect,  was  brought  one  day  to  the 
hospital  afflicted  apparently  with  total  paralysis  of 
both  legs.  It  was  decided  to  try  the  moxa,  a  little 
pastil,  which  in  such  cases  placed  upon  the  course 
of  the  spine,  and  being  lighted,  burns  down  to  and 
into  the  flesh.  The  patient  was  partly  undressed, 
laid  upon  the  table,  and  the  moxa  applied  to  his 
back.  No  suspicion  of  his  shamming  was  enter- 
tained by  the  doctors,  and  the  man  seemed  helpless 
from  the  waist  down.  But  so  unexpectedly  effica- 
cious was  the  remedy  that  no  sooner  did  the  fire 
reach  the  flesh  than  the  patient,  finding  at  the 
same  moment  both  tongue  and  limbs,  declined  their 
further  attentions  with  the  cry,  '<  No,  thankee ;  moch 
obleegV^  sprang  to  the  floor,  and  seizing  his  coat, 
made  for  the  door,  and  then  the  street,  and  was 
last  seen  or  heard  from  making  quick  time  around 
the  corner,  and  repeating  his  polite  farewell,  ^*  No, 
thankee ;  moch  obleeg' ;  moch  obleeg' ;  no  thankee !  *^ 


At  the  siege  of  Petersburg,  a  young  Confeder- 
ate lieutenant,  who  was  a  great  favorite  with  the 
girls,  was  badly  wounded  in  the  left  arm.  Several 
of  the  surgeons  declared  that  it  would  be  necessary 
to  amputate  the  limb,  but  it  was  finally  decided 
that  by  removing  a  section  of  the  bone  the  arm 
might  be  saved.  **But,'^  said  one  of  the  surgeons, 
*4t  will  be  a  bad  job,  and  when  healed  the  arm 
will  remain  crooked.* 

"Never  mind  the  crook,*  replied  the  lieutenant; 
*  set  it  for  hugging  and  go  ahead. " 


134  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

ocTOR ,  whose  belief  in  the  future  accords 

with  that  of  Colonel  Robert  IngersoU,  had 
occasion  recently  to  perform  a  surgical  operation 
upon  a  man  who  was  illiterate  and  not  select  in 
his  language.  After  etherizing  his  patient,  the 
operation  was  successfully  performed.  When  the 
effect  of  the  ether  had  passed  off,  the  subject,  look- 
ing wildly  around  the  room,  exclaimed,  *  Where 
am  I  ? » 

The  doctor  replied,  "Oh,  you  are  all  right.** 
*But,^*  said  the  man,   "it  may  be  all  right,  but 
where  am  I  ?  '* 

The  doctor  answered,  jocularly,   "  in  heaven.  * 
The  patient  responded,  "If  that's  so,  I'd  like  to 
know  what  ;you  are  doing  here!  ** 


Dr.  Emdee  — "  Did  the  patient  upon  whom  we 
operated  ever  come  back  ?  ^^ 

Dr.  Bo7ies  —  "Oh,  yes!  He  gave  me  a  test  at 
Madam  Geistseer's  stance  last  week.** 


THE    INQUEST 

Wherein  'fis  as  dangerous  to  be  sentenced  by  a  physician  as  a  judge. 
—  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  «  Religio  Medici.» 


CORONER    RAFFLEBONE 

^^^"^iscovERiNG,  Saturday  afternoon,  that,  con- 
trary to  his  usual  practice,  my  printer  had 
not  drawn  his  entire  salary  during  the  week, 
ten  cents  at  a  time,  for  obvious  purposes,  I  wrote  out 
the  past-due  subscription  bill  of  Mr.  Milo  Bush,  and 
started  forth  with  the  hope  of  making-  up  the  deficit. 
I  found  Mr.  Bush  seated  on  the  counter  in  Shanks's 
grocery  store,  engaged  in  the  study  of  air  currents, 
a  scientific  enquiry  carried  on  by  close  observation 
of  the  smoke  from  a  fierce  eruption  in  an  ancient 
corn-cob  pipe.  I  handed  him  the  bill,  which  he 
read  with  unfeigned  interest.  Then  he  looked  up 
with  an  animated  expression,  and  said, 

^*  By  George,  young  man,  this  reminds  me  of  old 
Doc  Rafflebone,  who  come  out  here  in  '78." 

«  Yes  ?  **  I  replied,  with  mild  concern,  as,  with 
some  alarm,  I  observed  him  carelessly  fold  the  bill 
and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket. 

**  Made  me  think  of  Doc  soon  as  I  seen  it,*^ 
went  on  Mr.  Bush.  *^  You  never  knowed  Doc  — 
his  wife  chased  him  out  of  the  Territory  before 
your  time.  You're  a  good  bit  of  a  tenderfoot, 
though  you  ain't  so  bad,  either.  The  average  ten- 
derfoot don't  know  enough  to  scratch  a  match  on  a 
grindstone;  but  I'll  say  for  you,  young  man,  that 
you  do.  You  have  your  weak  p'ints,  of  course, 
physically  and  mentally,  but,  as  I  often  say  to  the 
boys  when  they  are    a-running    of  you    down,  says 

(135) 


136  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

I,  'The  cuss  ain't  so  big  a  fool,  as  he  looks* — just 
like  that  I  put  it  to  'em,  many's  the  time.® 

^*  But  your  friend,  the  Doctor  ?  **  I  observed,  in 
an  insinuating  tone.  *  Coming  to  him,  young 
man,'*  he  returned,  as  he  punched  down  the  ashes 
in  his  pipe  with  a  finger  a  half-inch  shorter  than  it 
should  have  been,  apparently,  from  its  black  and 
charred  condition,  having  been  gradually  burned  off 
through  long  years  of  such  service.  '*  Old  Doc 
RafHebone,  come  from  Peoria.  Tried  to  shake 
his  wife,  but  she  got  here  on  the  next  stage.  Might 
as  well  tried  to  shake  his  dispersition.  When  that 
woman  called  off,  Doc  danced,  you  bet !  Used  to 
sign  hisself  Dr.  Seneca  Rafflebone,  H.  M.  P.,  C.  A. 
D.  N.,  which  meant  Hoss  and  Mule  Physician,  Calls 
Answered  Day  and  Night.  That's  what  Doc  was 
edecated  for  —  a  veteran.  He  was  a  success  with 
hosses,  too,  but  he  never  seemed  to  get  onto  the 
fine  p'ints  of  doctoring  folks.  The  trouble  was  in 
graderating  the  doses.  His  idea  was  that  if  a  hoss 
weighing  twelve  hundred  required  a  certain  dose, 
a  man  weighing  two  hundred  needed  just  one-sixth 
of  the  amount.** 

Mr.  Bush  paused,  puffed  strenuously  at  his  pipe, 
but  failing  in  a  responsive  cloud,  abstractedly  drew 
my  bill  from  his  pocket,  lit  it  at  the  stove,  and  ap- 
plied the  torch  to  the  slumbering  bowl,  vigorously 
stoking  it  meantime  with  his  finger. 

'*  The  theory  seems  sound,  **  I  observed,  with  a 
weak  show  of  cheerfulness. 

*'  Sound  as  a  nut.  But  the  difficulty  was  here : 
The  man  might  weigh  a  hundred  and  sixty-nine, 
or  a  hundred  and  forty-two.  An  A  i  'rithmetic 
scholar  could  probably  figure  it  out  even  in  this 
case,  and  fix  up  the  dose,  but  Doc  wa'n't  more'n 
'bout  Z  14,  or  thereabouts,  on  'rithmetic,  and  these 
odd-size  men  bothered  him  so  much  that  finally  he 
refused  to  treat  any  man  that  didn't  weigh  an  even 
two  hundred.     He   stuck  to    this   till  after  he  was 


THE   INQUEST  137 

elected  coroner;  then  he  didn't  care,  'cause  when 
he  couldn't  treat  a  man  no  more  in  his  private  pro- 
fessional capac'ty  he  could  sock  it  to  him  in  his 
official  capac'ty,  and  collect  one  bill  from  the  wid- 
der  and  the  other  from  the  county. 

«  But  by-and-by  a  reg'lar  M.  D.  doctor  come  out, 
and  Doc  Rafflebone's  practice  fell  off.  He  kept  the 
confidence  of  hoss-owners,  but  the  more  loving  and 
better  class  of  parents  didn't  go  to  him  for  their 
children.  He  never  had  been  no  success  with  chil- 
dren anyhow,  owing  to  their  uncertain  and  mixed- 
up  sizes.  The  new  Doc  not  only  busted  up 
Rafflebone's  practice,  but  knocked  out  his  coroner 
business  pretty  well  too,  because  without  Raffle- 
bone's  practice  sudden  death  become  just  about 
unknown  in  Frenchman  County.  But  Doc  was  en- 
terprising—  you  never  seen  an  enterprisinger  man 
in  your  life.  He  used  to  go  about  with  a  brace  of 
extra  six-shooters  in  his  pocket,  and  if  he  met  a 
man  that  was  anyways  mad  he  would  pull  out  one 
of  the  guns  and  offer  to  lend  it  to  him,  with  the 
advice  to  go  and  shoot  the  other  feller.  <  You  know 
the  old  proverb,  >  Doc  would  say  to  the  man  <  when 
a  pusson  riles  you,  pop  it  to  him,  and  then  count 
a  hundred.* 

"Doc  worked  up  a  few  cases  this  way,  but  not 
many.  Then  Fourth  of  July  came  along,  and  a 
sham  battle  was  arranged  as  one  of  the  attractions 
of  the  day.  Doc  got  at  the  ammunition  the  night 
before  and  substituted  a  lot  of  ball  cartridges  for 
the  blanks;  but  the  boys  got  onto  his  game.  This 
discouraged  him  some'at,  but  he  didn't  give  up,  no- 
how. Doc  Rafflebone  was  Old  Man  Enterprise 
hisself. 

"Soon  after  the  Fourth  there  came  along  a  cir- 
cus. It  was  the  first  circus  that  ever  struck  the 
Territory,  and  a  good  show,  though  the  zebra 
wouldn't  wash.  It  rained  the  night  before  and  his 
cage   leaked,   and   it   come    out   that   he   wa'n't   no 


138  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

fast-color  zebra.  That  there  zebra,  to  tell  the  hon- 
est truth,  was  just  about  one  hundred  per  cent. 
Rocky  Mountain  burro.  Doc  went  around  to  the 
proprietor  of  the  show  and  wanted  to  treat  the  ze- 
bra. Let  on  he  had  a  way  to  set  the  stripes  so  they 
wouldn't  either  run  or  fade,  and  offered  to  make  'em 
red,  white,  and  blue,  and  give  the  critter  a  yellow 
tail,  and  make  one  ear  green  and  t'other  one  pur- 
ple. The  proprietor  thought  Doc  was  trying  to 
josh  him,  so  he  kicked  him  out.  That  proprietor 
didn't  know  what  he  was  a-kicking. 

^*  Doc  made  up  his  mind  to  have  revenge.  First 
he  tried  to  get  up  a  row  betwixt  some  cowboys 
that  was  feeling  pretty  comfortable  and  the  circus 
men,  but  it  didn't  work.  Then  he  seen  the  side 
show,  and  went  over.  *  How  are  yer  animals  ?  * 
says  Doc  to  the  man.  *  All  well  except  the  two- 
headed  girl,  which  has  a  cough  in  her  left  throat,* 
says  the  man.  *I  am  Dr.  Rafflebone,  H.  M.  P., 
C.  A,  D,  N.,*  says  Doc,  *  and  I  can  cure  that 
cough.'  The  man  wouldn't  pass  him,  and  after  ar- 
geing  a  spell.  Doc  bought  a  ticket  and  went  in. 
He  didn't  find  any  two-headed  girl,  nor  nothing 
else  much  except  a  mermaid,  and  that  wa'n't  alive 
—  fact,  young  man,  dead  mermaid!  Doc  was  plumb 
beat;  but  just  then  he  seen  a  sign,  ^  Mummy  of 
Rameses  I. —  From  Egypt,*  and  he  examines  it. 
Then  an  idea  struck  him,  and  he  slapped  his  leg 
so  he  'most  broke  it.  He  turned  to  a  band  of  us 
that  was  a-sizing  up  the  mermaid,  and  says  he, 
*  Boys,  there's  suspicious  circumstances  connected 
with  this  here  mummy  —  we'll  just  hold  an  inquest 
on  him !  * 

*  So  you  may  snatch  my  buttons,  young  man,  if 
that  wa'n't  percisely  what  we  done  —  sot  on  old 
Rameses  I.,  and  I  was  foreman  of  the  jury.  The 
proprietor  come  in  and  begun  kicking.  *  Have  you 
got  a  certificate  from  the  physician  what  attended 
the  party  in   his  last  illness  ?  *   says  Doc,  sweet  as 


THE   INQUEST  139 

butter.  *  Thunder !  no,  *  says  the  proprietor.  *  Then 
the  inquest  proceeds,*  says  Doc.  The  proprietor 
kept  making  hisself  obnoxious,  so  Doc  fined  him 
ten  dollars  for  contempt  of  court,  and  he  shut  up. 
We  took  the  afternoon  for  it,  and  sifted  the  thing- 
to  the  bottom.  We  summoned  twenty  or  thirty 
witnesses,  mostly  the  boys,  picking  out  them  that 
we  thought  needed  the  fees  and  would  keep  the 
money  in  circulation.  None  of  'em  seemed  to  know 
much  about  the  case,  though  Jim  Shaw  thought  he 
had  seen  the  party  in  St.  Louis  two  years  before, 
where  he  were  a-lecturing  about  the  *  Effect  on  the 
System  of  Blue  Glass  * ;  but  Jim  didn't  know  noth- 
ing concerning  what  had  killed  him.  So,  after  do- 
ing all  we  could,  we  brought  in  a  verdict  that 
*  The  party  came  to  his  death  from  causes  unknown 
to  this  here  jury  * ;  and  Frenchman  County  being 
poor,  we  soaked  the  costs  to  the  proprietor.  *  Mebby 
he'll  let  me  treat  that  there  cotton  zebra  of  his'n 
next  time,*  says  Doc. 

^^  That's  all,  young  man.  I'm  a-comin'  into  yer 
office  some  day  next  week  to  tell  you  how  you 
want  to  handle  this  here  tariff  question  in  yer 
paper,  and  I  shan't  charge  you  a  cent  for  it !  " 

—  Hayde7t  Carruth. 

MR.  MALAPROP   AGAIN 

I  ONCE  had  a  noble-hearted  neighbor,  whose 
excellence  was  shown  rather  in  his  deeds  than  by 
his  words,  as  the  following  incident  will  prove :  — 

He  had  been  exceedingly  kind  to  a  poor  man 
who  for  a  long  time  suffered  from  a  disease  that 
baffled  the  skill  of  the  physicians.  To  the  last  he 
ministered  to  the  sufferer's  necessities,  and  after 
his  death  secured  the  ablest  of  the  profession  to 
make  an  autopsy.  In  telling  me  of  it  he  said,  ^*  You 
see,  I  thought  it  might  be  of  service  to  other  people, 
and  so  I  got  the  doctors  to  hold  a  post -mortification 
on  him. " 


I40  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

A  CORONER'S  JURY 

HE  following  picture  of  an  intelligent 
Coroner's  Jury  is  copied  from  an  Eng- 
lish newspaper,  published  twelve  years 
ago:  — 

Coroner  — "  Did  you  know  the  defunct  ?  * 

Witness  — «  Who's  he  ?  » 

Cor. — ^<Why,  the  dead  man.** 

^j/^V.— «Yes.** 

Cor. — "  Intimately  ?  ** 

jf///._«Werry.** 

Cor. — "How   often  have   you   been   in    company 
with  him  ?  ^* 

Wit. — «  Only  once.** 

Cor. — "  Do  you  call  that  intimately  ?  ** 

Wit. — "  Yes,  for    he    were    drunk,  and    /  were 
werr_y  drunk,  and  that  made  us  like  two  brothers.** 

Cor.  — "  Who  recognized  the  body  ?  ** 

Wit.— ''Jack  Adams.** 

Cor. — "How  did  he  recognize  him?** 

Wit, — "  By    standing    on    his    body,  to    let    the 
water  run  out!** 

Cor. — "I  mean  how  did  he  know  him?** 

Wit. — "By  his  plush   jacket.** 

Cor. — "  Any  thing  else  ?  ** 

j^//-. — «No;   his  face  was  so  swelled  his   mother 
wouldn't  ha'  know'd  him.** 

Cor. — "Then  how  did  you  know  him  ?  ** 

H^/A— "'Cause     I     wam't    his     mother!**     {Ap- 
plause in  the  court.') 

Cor. — "What  do  you   consider   the  cause   of  his 
death  ?  ** 

Wit. — '' Drownding,  in  course.** 

Cor. — "  Was    any    attempt    made    to    resascitate 
him  ?  ** 

H7//._«Yes.*> 

Cor.—''  How  ?  ** 

Wit, — "  We  sarched  his  pockets  !  ** 


THE   INQUEST  141 

Cor. — <<  I  mean,  did  you  try  to   bring  him  to?* 

Wit. — "Yes  —  to  the   public-house.* 

Cor.  —  "I  mean  to  recover  him  ?  * 

Wit. —  **No;   we  weren't  told  to.* 

Cor. — "Did  you  ever  suspect  the  deceased  of 
mental   alienation  ?  * 

Wit. — "Yes,  the   whole  village   suspected  him.* 

C^r.— «Why?» 

Wit. — "  'Cause  he  ailinated  one  of  the  Squire's 
pigs.  * 

Cor. — "  You  misunderstand  me.  I  allude  to 
mental  aberration.* 

Wit. — "  Some  think  he  ivas  !  * 

Cor. — "On  what  grounds?* 

Wit. — "I  believe  they  belonged  to  Squire 
Waters !  * 

Cor. — "Pshaw!    I  mean,   was  he  mad?^'* 

Wit. — "  Sartenly  he  were!* 

Cor. — "What!    devoid  of  reason?* 

Wit. — "  Oh,  he  had  no  reason  to  drown  hisself, 
as  I  knows  of.* 

Cor. — "That  will  do,  sir.  {To  the  jury)  :  Gen- 
tlemen, you  have  heard  the  evidence,  and  will 
consider  your  verdict.* 

Foreman. — "Your  worship,  we  are  all  of  one 
mind.  * 

C^r.— "Well,  what  is  it?* 

Foreman. — "We  don't  mind  what;  we're  agree- 
able to  any  thing  your  worship  pleases.* 

Cor. — "No,  gentlemen,  I  have  no  right  to  dic- 
tate; you  had  better  consult  together.* 

Foreman. — "We  have,  your  worship,  afore  we 
came,  and  we  are  all  unanimous.* 

Cor. — "  I  am  happy  to  hear  it,  gentlemen.  {To 
the  clerk)  :  Mr.  Clerk,  take  down  the  verdict. 
Now  then,  gentlemen.* 

Foreman. — "Why  then,  your  worship,  it's 
'•Justifiable   Suicide;'*    but    begs    to  recommend   to 


142  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

mercy,  and    hopes    we   shall    be    allowed    our    ex- 
penses !  * 

Lest  this  scene  should  be  thought  to  be  ex- 
aggerated, the  journalist  affirms  its  truth  to  the 
letter,  in  every  particular. 


THE  VERDICT 

Boston  medical  man  sends  us  the  verdicts  of 
coroners'  juries  in  two  cases,  as  evidence  that 
even  in  the  near  vicinity  of  the  modern  Athens  men 
may  be  found  who  are  liable  to  what  may  be  called 
**  temporary  confusion  of  intellect." 

No.  I. —  "We  find  that  John  Wilson  came  to  his 
death  from  some  cause  to  the  jury  unknown;  but, 
from  the  evidence,  the  jury  are  of  the  opinion  that 
his  death  was  accidental." 

No.  2. — "The  jury  find  that  Mary  Jones  came  to 
her  death  from  blows  inflicted  by  her  husband,  John 
Jones,  and  partly  from  the  excessive  use  of  intoxi- 
cating liquors;  the  first  mentioned  cause  operating, 
in  our  opinion,  to  cause  a  fatal  result,  partly  in  con- 
sequence of  the  second." 


"^^^^^^ 


GENERAL  PRACTICE 

A  popular  physician  is  a  very  important  member  of 
society  considered  merely  in  a  political  view.  The  lives, 
limbs,  health,  and  spirits  of  a  great  part  of  the  subjects  of 
a  kingdom  depend  upon  his  skill  and  honesty. 

—Dr.  Knox. 

ERRATUM 

WAS  a  doctor 

In  my  life-time; 
I  wrote  a  treatise 
In  Latin  rhyme 
Which  made  me  famous. 

Of  all  diseases 

That  men  endure 
And  all  the  simples 

That  will  them  cure 
My  volume  treated. 

'Twas  full  of  errors, 

As  I  of  pride 
Because  I  wrote  it, 

Before  I  died  — 
Ratio  sufficit. 

Why  agues  shake  us, 

Why  fevers  burn, 
What  power  hath  Luna, 

And  what  Saturn, 
And  Capricornus; 

What  cure  for  blindness, 

How  deaf  may  hear. 
For  raving  madness 
What  panacea 
Of  Elleborus; 

(143) 


144  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Of  rue's  great  virtues 

And  rosemary, 
For  what  use  poppy, 

What  briony  — 

All  there  is  answered. 

But  now  the  wisdom 

That  comes  with  death 

Suggests  an  error 
Which  burdeneth 

My  soul  with  sorrow. 

Let  now  the  tombstone 
At  my  grave's  head 

Say  what  of  old 

I  should  have  said 
When  I  was  living. 

*  Contra  bim  mortis  *  — 
It  should  have  been  — 

**  Non  est  in  hortis 
Medicamen. 

Fides  in  Christum^* 


DOCTORS  AND   DESTINY 

Doctah  Johnsing —  ^^  I  flattah  myself,  Sistah 
Thompsing,  dat  I've  had  unprecedented  fohtune 
doctahing  de  sick  dis  yeah.  I've  treated  ovah  fifty 
people,  an'  ob  de  twenty-seben  ob  dat  fifty  wot 
died,  not  one  ob  'em  died  from  de  complaint  dat  I 
was  doctahing  'em  foh.^* 

Sistah  Thompsing —  *•'-  Dey  didn't  ?  Dat's  a  good 
record,  suah  'nough  !  '^ 

Doctah  Johnsing  — *-*•  Yes ;  I  could  cuah  de  'riginal 
complaint  easy  'nough,  but  deir  time  had  come, 
anyhow,  'f  I'd  doctah  'em  foh  solidification  ob  de 
osseous  tissues,  dey'd  get  ovah  dat  all  right,  but 
dey'd  up  an'  die  right  off  from  cancer  or  persiflage. 
Science  can't  run  up  'gainst  fate  !  " 


GENERAL  PRACTICE  145 


SPONGE  AND   ITS  CONSEQUENCES 

JHERE  are  some  people  who  are  always  ready- 
to  approve  of  anything  that  is  new.  These 
are  they  who  buy  every  new  patent  med- 
icine, and  adopt  every  new  garment  that 
is  advertised  as  being  essential  to  health.  A  few 
years  ago  they  arrayed  themselves  from  head  to 
foot  in  red  flannel,  not  because  they  particularly 
liked  flannel,  or  admired  red  above  all  other  colors, 
but  because  red  flannel  underclothing  was  a  nov- 
elty, and  this  had  an  especial  claim  on  their  at- 
tention. Relying  on  this  tendency  to  buy  and  wear 
newly-invented  clothes,  some  artful,  and  it  is  to  be 
feared  unprincipled  man,  has  invented  undercloth- 
ing made  of  sponge.  The  trusting  public  is  in- 
formed that  only  by  wearing  sponge  underclothing 
can  people  hope  to  preserve  their  health,  and  live 
out,  say,  two-thirds  of  their  days.  The  result  is 
that  hundreds  of  men  and  women,  allured  by  the 
novelty  of  sponge  garments,  are  throwing  aside 
their  flannel,  silk,  or  merino  underwear,  and  buy- 
ing the  new  and  promising  substitute  for  the  same. 
Mr.  Thomas  Hewett,  who  is  one  of  the  leading 
citizens  of  Birmingham,  is  commonly  spoken  of  by 
those  who  know  him  and  share  his  radical  opinions 
as  a  **  progressive  man.  *^  There  has  not  been  a 
single  new  patent  medicine  placed  on  the  market 
within  the  last  ten  years  that  Mr.  Hewett  has  not 
bought,  and  either  personally  swallowed  or  given  to 
his  family.  There  is  hardly  a  new  variety  of  reli- 
gious or  political  opinion  which  Mr.  Hewett  has  not 
adopted.  His  only  daughter,  who  is  also  his  only 
child  —  for  he  lost  his  son  two  years  ago  by  giving 
him  a  dose  of  Cancer  Preventive,  by  mistake  for  a 
dose  of  Broken  Leg  Palliative  —  shares  to  some  ex- 
tent her  father's  love  of  progress,  and  either  of 
her    own    inclination,   or    in    compliance    with    his 

D.L.H. — 10 


146  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

parental  commands,  adopts  every  hygienic  garment 
that  is  invented. 

Last  week  Miss  Hewett  was  invited  by  young 
Mr,  Baxter,  the  son  of  the  chemist  who  supplies 
Mr.  Hewett  with  most  of  his  medicines,  to  accom- 
pany him  in  a  drive  in  the  outskirts  of  Birming- 
ham. It  had  rained  incessantly  for  several  days, 
and  the  weather  reports  prophesied  bright  and 
sunny  weather.  In  these  circumstances  a  prudent 
girl  would  have  declined  to  risk  herself  and  her 
best  clothes  by  driving  in  an  open  victoria,  but 
unfortunately  Miss  Hewett  yielded  to  her  desire 
for  a  drive,  and  accepted  Mr.   Baxter's  invitation. 

When  the  young  people  set  forth  on  their  ex- 
cursion a  dense  fog,  mingled  with  occasional  show- 
ers, extended  over  the  entire  area  of  country 
where  the  Weather  Report  had  falsely  promised 
sunshine.  Neither  Miss  Hewett  nor  Mr.  Baxter 
cared  for  the  fog.  They  were  young  and  happy. 
Had  the  fog  been  of  the  blackest  London  variety 
they  would  hardly  have  noticed  it.  So  they  drove 
on  slowly  and  cautiously,  and  discussed  medicines 
and  other  interesting  topics,  heedless  of  the  pene- 
trating character  of  the  fog. 

About  two  o'clock  a  curious  phenomenon  man- 
ifested itself.  Miss  Hewett  was  growing  percepti- 
bly larger.  Her  attention  was  first  called  to  the 
fact  by  the  tightness  of  her  dress,  and  on  taking 
temporary  measures  to  remedy  that  evil,  she  found 
that  she  was  at  least  twice  as  large  in  circumfer- 
ence as  she  had  ever  been  at  any  previous  time. 
Mr.  Baxter  almost  simultaneously  discovered  that 
his  arm  could  no  longer  completely  encircle  his 
companion,  and  the  awful  truth  that  she  was  rap- 
idly and  visibly  swelling  smote  the  pair  with  ter- 
rible force.  Mr.  Baxter  suggested  that  this  might 
possibly  be  the  result  of  having  eaten  large  quanti- 
ties of  dried  fruit,  washed  down  with  water,  but 
the  young    lady    indignantly    denied    that    she   had 


GENERAL   PRACTICE 


147 


ever  tasted  dried  fruit.  The  young  man  carefully 
thought  over  the  possible  results  of  over-indulgence 
in  any  or  all  of  the  drugs  sold  at  his  shop,  but  he 
could  not  remember  that  any  of  them  were  capable 
of  producing  sudden  corpulence.  Soon  Miss  Hew- 
ett's  alarm  at  her  strange  condition  became  so 
great  that  the  horse's  head  was  turned  homeward, 
and  the  animal  was  driven  at  a  rapid  rate  in  search 
of  the  nearest  physician.  Meanwhile,  Miss  Hewett 
continued  to  grow  with  amazing  rapidity.  She  al- 
most filled  the  seat  of  the  victoria,  and  crowded 
Mr.  Baxter  into  the  extreme  corner.  Suddenly  a 
new  horror  made  its  appearance.  Mr.  Baxter  found 
that  his  left  side  and  arm  were  thoroughly  wet, 
and  that  pools  of  water  were  forming  in  the  bottom 
of  the  carriage.  In  his  turn,  he  became  terrified, 
and  urged  on  the  horse  in  a  way  that  was  really 
dangerous.  The  victoria  swayed  and  jolted,  and 
at  every  jolt  Miss  Hewett  was  enveloped  in  a 
shower  of  water.  She  would  then  for  a  few  mo- 
ments occupy  a  little  less  space,  but  in  a  short 
time  would  become  as  stout  as  ever.  A  state  of 
things  so  unprecedented  and  alarming  would  per- 
haps have  driven  Mr.  Baxter  into  hopeless  lunacy 
had  he  not  reached  the  doctor's  house  before  his 
reason  was  completely  overthrown. 

The  doctor  was  not  long  in  making  a  diagnosis 
of  the  case,  and  in  relieving  the  minds  of  his 
frightened  visitors.  He  said  that  it  was  not  a 
wholly  unprecedented  case.  Sponge,  he  informed 
his  visitors,  will  occupy  when  dried  and  compressed 
comparatively  little  space,  but  when  exposed  to 
moisture  in  the  form  of  a  heavy  fog,  it  will  ab- 
sorb water  to  such  an  extent  as  to  swell  to  many 
times  its  original  bulk.  He  then  wrote  a  prescrip- 
tion, in  which  he  had  some  difficulty  in  translating 
« towels  ^'  into  Latin,  and  dismissed  the  young  peo- 
ple and  pocketed  his  guinea. 

—  William  L.  Alden. 


148  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

DOCHTHER  O'FLANNIGAN   AND   HIS  WON- 
DHERFUL    CURES 

I. 

B'm  Barney  O'Flannigan,  lately  from  Cork; 
I've  crossed  the  big  watther  as  bould  as  a  shtork. 
'Tis  a  dochther  I  am  and  well  versed  in  the  thrade ; 
I  can  mix  yez  a  powdher  as  good  as  is  made. 
Have  yez  pains  in  yer  bones  or  a  throublesome  ache 
In  yer  jints  afther  dancin'  a  jig  at  a  wake  ? 
Have  yez  caught  a  black  eye  from   some   blundhering 

whack  ? 
Have  yez  vertebral  twists  in  the  sphine  av   yer  back  ? 
Whin  ye're  walkin'  the  shtrates  are   yez  likely  to  fall  ? 
Don't  whiskey  sit  well  on  yer  shtomick  at  all  ? 
Sure  'tis  botherin'  nonsinse  to  sit  down  an  wape 
Whin  a  bit  av  a  powdher  ull  put  yez  to  shlape. 
Shtate   yer  symptoms,  me  darlins.  and  niver  yez  doubt 
But  as  sure  as  a  gun  I  can  shtraighten  yez  out! 
Thin  don't  yez  be  gravin'  no  more ; 

Arrah!  quit  all  yer  sighin'  forlorn; 
Here's  Barney  O'Flannigan  right  to  the  fore. 
And  bedad!  he's  a  gintleman  born! 

II. 
Coom  thin,   ye  poor  craytures  and  don't  yez  be  scairt! 
Have  yez  batin'  and  lumberin'  thumps  at  the  hairt, 
Wid  ossification,  and  acceleration, 
Wid  fatty  accration  and  bad  vellication, 
Wid  liver  inflation  and  hapitization, 
Wid  lung  inflammation  and  brain  adumbration, 
Wid  black  aruptation  and  schirrhous  formation, 
Wid  nerve  irritation  and  paralyzation, 
Wid  extravasation  and  acrid  sacration, 
Wid  great  jactitation  and  exacerbation, 
Wid  shtrong  palpitation  and  wake  circulation, 
Wid  quare  titillation  and  cowld  perspiration  ? 
Be  the  powers !  but  I'll  bring  all  yer  woes  to  complation, 
Onless  yer  in  love  —  thin  yer  past  all  salvation ! 

Coom,  don't  yez  be  gravin'  no  more! 
Be  quit  wid  yer  sighin'  forlorn; 

Here's  the  man  all  yer  haling  potations  to  pour, 
And  ye'll  prove  him  a  gintleman  born! 


GENERAL  PRACTICE  149 

in. 

Sure,  me  frinds,  'tis  the  wondherful  luck  I   have  had 
In  the  thratement  av  sickness  no  matther  how  bad. 
All  the   hundhreds  I've  cured  'tis  not  aisy  to  shpake, 
And  if  any  sowl  dies,  faith  I'm  in  at  the  wake; 
There  was    Misthriss   O'Toole  was   tuck  down   mighty 

quare, 
That  wild  there  was  niver  a  one  dared  to  lave  her; 
And  phat  was  the  matther?    Ye'll  like  for  to  hare; 
'Twas  the  double  quotidian  humerous  faver. 
Well,  I  tuck  out  me  lancet  and  pricked  at  a  vein, 
(Och,  murther!  but  didn't  she  howl  at  the  pain!) 
Six  quarts,  not  a  dhrap  less  I  drew  widout  sham. 
And  troth  she  shtopped   howlin',   and  lay  like  a  lamb. 
Thin   for  fare  sich  a  method  av  thratement  was  risky, 
I  hasthened  to  fill  up  the  void  wid  ould  whiskey, 
Och !  niver  be  gravin'  no  more ! 

Phat  use  av  yer  sighin'  forlorn  ? 
Me  patients  are  proud  av  me  midical  lore  — 

They'll  shware  I'm  a  gintleman  born. 

IV. 
Well,  Misthriss  O'Toole  was  tuck  betther  at  once. 
For  she  riz  up  in  bed  and  cried :  <<  Paddy,  ye  dunce ! 
Give  the  dochther  a  dhram.**    So  I  sat  at  me  aise 
A-brewin'  the  punch  jist  as  fine  as  ye  plaze. 
Thin  I  left  a  prascription  all  written  down  nate 
Wid  ametics  and  diaphoretics  complate; 
Wid  anti-shpasmodics  to  kape  her  so  quiet, 
And  a  toddy  so  shtiff  that  ye'd  all  like  to  thry  it. 
So  Paddy  O'Toole  mixed  'em  well  in  a  cup  — 
All  barrin'  the  toddy,  and  that  he  dhrunk  up; 
For   he    shwore    'twas  a   shame    sich   good   brandy  to 

waste 
On  a  double  quotidian  faverish  taste; 
And  troth  we  agrade  it  was  not  bad  to  take, 
Whin  we  dhrank   that  same  toddy  nixt  night  —  at  the 
wake! 
Arrah!  don't  yez  be  gravin'  no  more, 

Wid  yer  moanin'  and  sighin'  forlorn; 
Here's  Barney  O'Flannigan  thrue  to  the  core 
Av  the  hairt  of  a  gintleman  born! 


150  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

V. 
There  was  Michael  McDonegan  down  wid  a  fit 
Caught  av  dhrinkin'  co wld  watther  —  whin  tipsy  —  a  bit. 
'Twould  have  done  your  hairt  good  to  have  heard  him 

cry  out 
For  a  cup  of  potheen  or  a  tankard  av  shtout, 
Or  a  wee  dhrap  av  whiskey,  new   out  av  the  shtill;  — 
And  the  shnakes  that  he  saw  —  troth  'twas  jist  fit  to  kill ! 
It  was  Mania  Pototororum,  bedad! 
Holy  Mither  av  Moses!  the  divils  he  had! 
Thin  to  scare  'em  away  we  surroonded  his  bed, 
Clapt  on  forty  laches  and  blisthered  his  head, 
Bate  all  the  tin  pans  and  set  up  sich  a  howl. 
That  the  last  fiery  divil  ran  off,  be  me  sowl! 
And  we  writ  on  his   tombstone,  *<  He  died  av  a  shpell 
Caught  av  dhrinkin'  cowld   watther   shtraight  out  av  a 
well.» 
Now  don't  yez  be  gravin'  no  more, 

Surrinder  yer  sighin'  forlorn! 
'Twill  be  fine  when  ye  cross  to  the  Stygian  shore, 
To  be  sint  by  a  gintleman  born. 

VI. 

There  was  swate  Ellen  Mulligan,  sazed  wid  a  cough, 

And  ivery  one  said  it  would  carry  her  off. 

<^  Whisht,'*    says  I,    <<  thrust   to  me,  now,  and  don't  yez 

go  crazy; 
If  the  girlie  must  die,  sure  I'll  make  her  die  aisy!* 
So  I  sairched  through  me  books  for  the  thrue  diathasis 
Of  morbus  dyscrasia  tuburculous  phthasis; 
And  I  boulsthered  her  up  wid  the  shtrongest  av  tonics. 
Wid  iron  and  copper  and  hosts  av  carbonics; 
Wid  whiskey  sarved  shtraight  in  the  finest  av  shtyle. 
And  I  grased  all  her  inside  wid  cod-liver  ile! 
And  says  she  (whin  she  died),  <<  Och,  dochther,  me  honey, 
'Tis  you  as  can  give  us  the  worth  av  our  money; 
And  begorra,  I'll  shpake  to  the  divil  this  day 
Not  to  kape  yez  a-waitin'  too  long  fer  yer  pay.* 

So  don't  yez  be  gravin'  no  more! 

To  the  dogs  wid  yer  sighin'  forlorn! 

Here's  dhrugs  be  the  handful  and  pills  be  the  score. 
And  to  dale  thim  a  gintleman  born. 


GENERAL   PRACTICE  151 

VII. 

There  was  Teddy  Maloney  who  bled  at  the  nose 

Afther  blowin'  the  fife;   and  mayhap   ye'd  suppose 

'Twas  no  matther  at  all;   but  the  books  all  agrade 

'Twas  a  sarious  visceral  throuble  indade; 

Wid  the  blood  swimmin'  roond  in  a  circle  elliptic, 

The  Schneidarian  membrane  was  wantin'  a  shtyptic; 

The  antarior  nares  were  nadin'  a  plug, 

And  Teddy  himself  was  in  nade  av  a  jug. 

Thin  I  rowled  out  a  big  pill  av  sugar  av  lead. 

And  I  dosed  him,  and  shtood  him  up  firm  on  his  head, 

And  says   I :   ^^  Now,  me   lad,  don't  be  atin'  yer  lingth, 

But  dhrink  all  ye  plaze,  jist  to  kape  up  yer  shtringth." 

Faith!   His  widdy's  a  jewel!   But  whisht!   don't  ye 

shpake ! 
She'll  be  Misthriss  O'Flannigan  airly  nixt  wake. 
Coom,  don't  yez  be  gravin'  no  more ! 

Shmall  use  av  yer  sighin'  forlorn; 
For  yer  widdies,  belike,  whin  their  mournin'  is  o'er. 

May  marry  some  gintleman  born. 

VIII. 

Ould  Biddy  O'Cardigan  lived  all  alone. 

And  she  felt  mighty  nate  wid  a  house  av  her  own — 

Shwate-smellin'    and    houlsome,    swaped    clane    wid    a 

rake, 
Wid  two  or  thray  pigs  jist  for  company's  sake. 
Well,  phat  should  she  get  but  the  malady  vile 
Av  cholera-phobia-vomitus-bile ! 
And  she  sint  straight  for   me :   <<  Dochther   Barney,  me 

lad,» 
Says  she,   "I'm  in  nade  av  assistance,  bedad! 
Have  yez  niver  a  powdher  or  bit  av  a  pill  ? 
Me  shtomick's  a  rowlin';   jist  make  it  kape  shtill  !*' 
"I'm  the  boy  can  do  that,'^  says  I;  "hould  on  a  minit, 
Here's  me  midicine-chist  wid  me  calomel  in  it, 
And  I'll  make  yez  a  bowle  full  av  rid  pipper  tay 
So  shtrong  ye'll  be  thinkin'  the  divil's  to  pay." 

Now  don't  yez  be  gravin'  no  more! 
Be  quit  wid  yer  sighin'  forlorn, 

Wid  shtrychnine  and  vitriol  and  opium  galore, 
Behould  me  —  a  gintleman  born. 


152 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


IX. 


Wid  a  gallon  av  rum  thin  a  flip  I  created, 

Shwate,  wid   musthard   and   shpice;    and   the   poker  I 

hated 
As  rid  as  a  guinea  jist  out  av  the  mint  — 
And  into  her  shtomick,  begorra,  it  wint! 
Och,  niver  belave  me,  but  didn't  she  roar! 
I'd  have  kaped  her  alive  with  a  quart  or  two  more  ; 
And  the  thray  little  pigs  in  that  house  av  her  own 
Wouldn't  now  he  a-shtarvin'  and  shqualin'  alone. 
And    that     gossoon,     her    boy  —  the    shpalpeen    alto- 

gither!  — 
Would    niver    have     shwom    that    I    murdhered    his 

mither. 
Troth,  for  sayin'  that  same,  but  I  sarved  him  a  thrick, 
Whin  I  met  him  by  chance  wid  a  bit  av  a  shtick. 
Faith,  I  dochthered  him  well  till  the  cure  I  complated, 
And,  be  jabers!   there's  one  man  alive  that  I  thrated! 
So  don't  yez  be  gravin'  no  more; 

To  the  dogs  wid  yez  sighin'  forlorn! 
Arrah!    knock   whin    ye're    sick    at    O'Flannigan's 
door, 
And  die  for  a  gintleman  born! 

— Amanda    T.  Jones. 


«  Opposite  to  the  Eagle  Tavern,  in  those  days, 
dwelt  an  M.  D.  whom  many  will  also  remember. 
*Dr.  Hinckley,  Physician  and  Surgeon,^  was  the  in- 
scription on  the  shingle  over  his  door,  and  so  high 
up  as  not  to  be  easily  read.  One  afternoon  I  noticed 
a  couple  of  verdant  youth  attentively  studying  the 
sign,  when  one  of  them  exclaimed:  ^I've  got  it! 
It's  Dr.  Hinckley,  Physicking  Sturgeon ! ' » 

«<No,  it  ain't,*  said  the  other,  *  it's  Dr.  Hinck- 
ley, Fishing  for  Sturgeon.  >  » 

«The  boys  were  evidently  full  of  Albany  beef, 
as  sturgeon  was  and  is  now  called,  and  being  satis- 
fied that  they  had  got  the  right  of  it,  decamped.* 


GENERAL  PRACTICE  153 

HYPODERMIC   ENERGY 

ar^  PHYSICIAN  and  his  friend  were  standing  on  the 
All  street  corner  of  a  Virginia  town  where  they 
were  spending  a  few  days.  Their  attention  was, 
amusingly  arrested  by  the  sight  of  an  old  darky 
belaboring  the  flanks  of  a  mule  in  a  vain  persua- 
sion to  make  him  move  on.  At  last  the  doctor 
was  appealed  to. 

« Say,  boss,  I'll  give  you  five  dollahs  ef  you'll 
make  dis  hyer  mule  go.* 

With  a  sly  wink  the  physician  opened  his  case 
and  took  out  his  hypodermic  syringe,  filled  the 
needle  with  an  acid  and  sent  it  into  the  hind  quar- 
ters of  the  mule.  The  eflEect  was  magical.  With 
a  wild  plunge  the  mule  went  tearing  down  the 
street  with  the  darky  after  him,  the  bystanders 
roaring  with  laughter.  A  short  time  afterward, 
the  darky,  dust-covered  and  panting,  approached 
again. 

"Say,  boss  —  how  much  —  was  de  wuff  —  of  dat 
stuff  — yo'  done  squht  —  in  dat  mule?» 

«0h,»  said  the  doctor,  "about  ten  cents." 

Down  went  the  darky's  hands  in  his  jeans 
pockets.     He  fished  out  two  dimes. 

"Hyah,  boss  —  am  twenty  cents.  I  wish  —  yo' 
would  squht  —  twice  as  much  of  that  stuff  into  me 
'case  I'se  bound  — to  catch  dat  mule." 


''*•  VThe  trial  of  a  doctor's  suit  was  published  in  a 
Connecticut  newspaper  some  years  ago,  in  which 
a  witness  was  called  for  the  purpose  of  proving 
the  correctness  of  the  doctor's  bill. 

The  witness  was  asked  by  the  lawyer  whether 
the  doctor  did  not  make  several  visits  after  the 
patient  was  out  of  danger.  «No,»  replied  the 
witness,  "  I  considered  the  patient  in  danger  so 
long  as  the  doctor  continued  his  visits.* 


154  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


ID 


THE  SKITTISH   DOCTOR 

OCTOR  S was  noted  among  his  professional 

brethren  for  his  power  of  concentration. 
When  once  he  bent  his  mind  to  a  problem  he  be- 
came totally  oblivious  of  everything  about  him. 
The  doctor  had  a  horse  that  was  almost  as  famous 
as  himself.  Among  her  peculiarities  was  the  habit 
of  shying.  She  would  not  shy  at  things  which 
most  horses  consider  fit  subjects  for  that  sort  of 
digression.  She  would  pay  no  attention  whatever 
to  a  newspaper  blowing  about  the  streets,  but  was 
mortally  afraid  of  a  covered  wagon.  At  the  sight 
of  one  of  New  Haven's  suburban  stages  she  would 
run  over  the  curb-stone  and  threaten  not  only  the 
doctor's  life,  but  that  of  a  chance  passer.  Of  this 
habit  she  could  not  be  broken.  It  seemed  as 
though  she  could  smell  a  stage  long  before  it  came 
in  sight,  so  that  the  doctor  would  go  half  a  dozen 
blocks  out  of  his  way  rather  than  meet  one.  Early 
one  morning  he  received  a  telephone  call  to  the 
effect  that  one  of  his  patients  had  become  alarm- 
ingly worse.  Without  waiting  for  his  carriage,  he 
started  to  walk,  the  distance  being  about  a  mile. 
His  mind  became  at  once  absorbed  in  the  case, 
but  not  so  much  so  that  he  did  not  remember  that 
the  course  of  the  Seymour  stage  lay  right  in  his 
path.  He  looked  at  his  watch  and  saw  that  he 
would  be  sure  to  meet  it  if  he  went  the  shortest 
way.  He  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  his  patient,  but 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  He  uttered  a  maledic- 
tion over  the  circumstance,  and  turned  off  at  the 
first  corner.  This  obliged  him  to  nearly  double  the 
distance,  and  the  day  was  warm.  He  walked  as  he 
never  walked  before,  and  failed  to  recognize  a 
couple  of  intimate  friends  whom  he  nearly  ran 
over.  It  was  not  until  he  spent  two  hours  with 
his  patient,   and   came  out  to   look   for  his  horse, 


GENERAL  PRACTICE  15$ 

that  he  began  to  realize  that  he  had  walked  a  mile 
out  of  his  way  so  that  he  need  not  shy  at  the  Sey- 
mour stage. 


THE    SERVANT    WAS    HORRIFIED 

BR.  S.  had  last  winter  a  newly-arrived  Hibernian 
for  a  servant ;  he  had  also  recently  purchased 
a  pair  of  porpoise-leather  boots.  His  wife,  attracted 
by  the  novelty  of  the  new  foot-wear,  asked  the  doc- 
tor in  the  presence  of  the  ser\»ant  what  they  were 
made  of,  to  which  he  responded,  «  Porpoise-hide. » 
Shortly  after  the  lady  from  the  Emerald  Isle 
interviewed  Mrs.  S.  and  announced  her  intention 
of  « laving  whin  me  week  is  up.»  Mrs.  8.,  some- 
what surprised,  asked  the  disturbed  domestic  the 
reason  for  her  announced  departure,  to  which 
Bridget  responded,  with  a  horrified  air, — 

«Yer  husband  is  a  docther,  mum,  an'  I've  heard 
them  docthers  do  be  cuttin'  up  people,  an'  didn't 
I  hear  um,  with  me  own  errs,  say  that  the  boots 
of  him  were  made  of  pauper's  hide  ?  It's  me  own 
ould  father  that  died  in  the  poor-house,  an'  I 
wouldn't  be  sarvin'  a  haythen  that  uses  the  skin  of 
the  poor  to  cover  his  dirthy  feet  wid.» 


A  CLEAR  CASE 

H  BOARD  of  physicians   were   inquiring   into    the 
state  of  mind  of  an  alleged  lunatic. 
«You  told  us   just   now,"    said    the    spokesman, 
«that  you  were   the    Emperor    Napoleon,  and    now 
you  say   you    are    the    Duke   of    WelHngton.     Pray 
explain  yourself." 

"Quite  right,*  returned  the  patient,  cheerfully; 
«that  was  by  a  different  mother. » 

They  didn't  ask  him  any  more  questions. 


156  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

MEDICAL    LONGEVITY 

THE  average  duration  of  a  medical  man's  life 
during  the  sixteenth  century  was  thirty-six 
years,  five  months;  in  the  seventeenth  century  it 
was  forty-five  years,  eight  months;  in  the  eight- 
eenth century  forty-nine  years,  eight  months ;  and  in 
the  nineteenth  century  fifty-six  years,  seven  months. 
It  would  appear  from  this  data  that  —  whether  the 
survival  be  of  the  fittest  or  not  —  the  duration  of 
medical  life  has  been  increasing  in  a  marvellous 
manner.  Should  the  same  rate  be  maintained  prac- 
titioners of  medicine  may  ere  long  all  look  forward 
to  centennial  honors  —  by  no  means  a  rosy  pros- 
pect from  the  point  of  view  of  the  neophyte  who, 
as  it  is,  finds  it  sufficiently  hard  to  make  good  his 
footing  within  the  densely  crowded  ranks.  Accord- 
ing to  Dr.  Salzmann,  the  antiquarian,  the  addition 
of  over  twenty  years  to  the  average  medical  life- 
time is  due  to  the  advance  of  medical  science, 
preventive  and  curative;  so  the  ironical  apothegm, 
**  Physician,  heal  thyself,  *  can  no  longer  be  launched 
with   any  effect. 


NO   PERCEPTIBLE   CHANGE 

Josh —  *^  Don't  you  remember  there  was  a  doctor 
some  time  ago  that  found  out  how  to  take  out  your 
stomach  without  doin'  any  harm  ?  '^ 

Silas  — "  Well,  I  reckon  his  plan  didn't  work. 
As  fur  as  I  can  see,  there's  jest  as  many  folks  with 
stomachs  as  ever  there  was.*^ 


TOO  MUCH  OF  A  GOOD    THING 

Patient — **  I  just  dropped  in  to  see  you,  Doctor, 
and  to  say  that  I  am  entirely  recovered.* 

Doctor  —  "  Is  that  so  ?  I  wish  you  would  drop  in 
of  tener. " 


GENERAL  PRACTICE  157 

THE  DOCTOR 

A   Sketch 

«  Whatever  is,  is  righty*  —Pope. 

i)HERE  once  was  a  doctor 
(No  foe  to  the  proctor), 
A  physic  concocter, 

Whose  dose  was  so  pat, 
However  it  acted. 
One  speech  it  extracted, — 
«Yes,  yes,»  said  the  Doctor, 
«I  meant  it  for  that!» 

And  first  all  «unaisy,» 
Like  woman  that's  crazy. 
In  flies  Mistress  Casey, 

<<Do  come  to  poor  Pat; 
The  blood's  running  faster! 
He's  torn  ofiE  the  plaster 


«Yes,  yes,*  said  the  Doctor, 
«I  meant  it  for  that!» 

Anon,  with  an  antic. 

Quite  strange  and  romantic, 

A  woman  comes  frantic  — 

«  What  could  you  be  at  ? 
My  darling  dear  Aleck, 
You've  sent  him  oxalic!" 
«  Yes,  yes,»  said  the  Doctor, 

«I  meant  it  for  that!» 

Then  in  comes  another, 
Dispatch'd  by  his  mother, 
A  blubbering  brother. 

Who  gives  a  rat-tat  — 
«  Oh,  poor  little  sister 
Has  lick'd  off  a  blister !» 
«Yes,  yes,*  said  the  Doctor, 

«I  meant  it  for  that!» 


l^H  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Now  home  comes  the  flunkey, 
His  own  powder-monkey, 
But  dull  as  a  donkey  — 

With  basket  and  that  — 
«The  draught  for  the  Squire,  Sir, 

He  chuck'd  in  the  fire.  Sir » 

«Yes,  yes,»  said  the  Doctor, 

«I  meant  it  for  thatl» 

The  next  is  the  pompous 
Head  Beadle,  old  Bumpus  — 
«Lord!  here  is  a  rumpus: 

That  pauper,  Old  Nat, 
In  some  drunken  notion 

Had  drunk  up  his  lotion » 

«Yes,  yes,**  said  the  Doctor, 

«I  meant  it  for  that!» 

At  last  comes  a  servant. 
In  grief  very  fervent; 
«Alas!  Doctor  Derwent, 

Poor  Master  is  flat! 
He's  drawn  his  last  breath.  Sir  — 
That  dose  was  his  death,  Sir.» 
"Yes,  yes,*  said  the  Doctor, 

«I  meant  it  for  that!» 

—  Thomas  Hood. 


HARD   ON  THE   PROFESSION 

«  John,  our  doctor  is  recommending  Welsh  rabbit 
as  a  breakfast  dish.** 

«  Well,  you  see  through  that,  don't  you  ?  He's 
getting  so  lazy  that  he  doesn't  want  to  be  called  out 
at  night.** 


A  WONDER-WORKER 

*  They  say  my  cousin  is  a  wonderful  doctor.  * 
"  You  bet  he  is !     I  swallowed  a  nickel  the  other 
day  and  he  made  me  cough  up  $2.** 


GENERAL  PRACTICE  159 

TAKING   ADVANTAGE    OF    THE 
SITUATION 

MEMBER  of  the  military  band  at  a  certain  bar- 
rack came  to  the  surgeon  recently  with  a  long 
face  and  a  plaintive  story  about  a  sore  throat. 
"  Sore  throat,  eh  ?  ^^  said  the  surgeon,  pleasantly. 
"  Let  me  see.  Oh,  that's  not  so  bad.  A  slight 
irritation,  nothing  more.  You'll  be  all  right  in  a 
day  or  two.  I  think  you  had  better  take  no  risk 
of  renewing  the  trouble  by  using  your  throat, 
though,  so  I  will  recommend  you  for  a  fortnight's 
sick  leave.  *^ 

Armed  with  the  surgeon's  certificate,  the  bands- 
man obtained  his  two  weeks'  sick  leave.  The  two 
weeks  had  just  come  to  an  end,  when  he  met  the 
surgeon  on  the  parade  ground.  The  bandsman 
saluted.  The  surgeon  recognized  the  face  and 
stopped.  "  How's  the  throat  ?  '^  he  asked  pleasantly. 
^*  It's  quite  well,  sir,*  was  the  reply.  ^*  That's 
good,*  said  the  surgeon.  **  You  can  get  back  to 
your  duty  without  fear.  By  the  way,  what  instru- 
ment do  you  handle  in  the  band  ?  *  **  The  small 
drum,  sir,*  said  the  musician 


'Tis  known,  I  ever 
Have  studied  physic,  through  which  secret  art, 

I  can  speak  of  the  disturbances 

That  nature  works,  and  of  her  cures ;  which  doth  give  me 

A  more  content  in  course  of  true  delight 

Than  to  be  thirsty  after  tottering  honor, 

Or  tie  my  treasure  up  in  silken  bags 

To  please  the  fool  and  death. 

~-  Shakespeare. 


A  PHYSICIAN  was  badly  hurt  by  the  caving-in  of 
a  well.  He  should  have  attended  to  the  sick,  and 
let  the  well  alone. 


l6o  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  «DEADHEAD» 

TT^iFTY  years  ago  the  principal  avenue  of  Detroit 
ir^  had  a  toll-gate  close  to  the  entrance  of  the 
Elwood  Cemetery  road.  As  this  cemetery  had  been 
laid  out  some  time  previous  to  the  construction  of 
the  plank  road,  it  was  arranged  that  all  funeral 
processions  should  be  allowed  to  pass  along  the 
latter  toll-free.  One  day,  as  Dr.  Pierce,  a  well- 
known  physician,  stopped  to  pay  his  toll,  he  ob- 
served to  the  gate-keeper, — 

*  Considering  the  benevolent  character  of  our 
profession,  I  think  you  ought  to  let  us  pass  free  of 
charge. " 

*  No,  no,  doctor,^*  replied  the  man:  "we  can't 
afford  that.  You  send  too  many  *  deadheads* 
through  here  as  it  is.* 

The  story  travelled,  and  the  word  became  fixed. 


The  late  Dr.  Yandell  was  fond  of  telling  the 
following  joke :  A  lady  patient  one  morning  greeted 
him  with  the  remark,  <<  Doctor,  I  had  such  a  singular 
dream  about  you  last  night.  *  "  Indeed.  What  was 
it  ? »  « Why,  I  dreamed  that  I  died  and  went  to 
Heaven.  I  knocked  at  the  golden  gate,  and  was 
answered  by  Peter,  who  asked  my  name  and  ad- 
dress, and  told  the  recording  angel  to  bring  his 
book.  He  had  considerable  difficulty  in  finding  my 
name,  and  hesitated  so  long  over  the  entry,  when 
he  did  find  it,  that  I  was  terribly  afraid  something 
was  wrong,  but  he  suddenly  looked  up  and  asked, 
*  What  did  you  say  your  name  was  ?  *  I  told  him 
again.  *Why,>  said  he,  <  you've  no  business  here. 
You're    not    due    these    ten    or    fifteen    years  yet.  * 

<Well,>  said  I,  <  Dr.  Yandell  said> <Oh,  you're 

one  of  Yandell's  patients,  are  you  ?  That  accounts 
for  it.  Come  right  in!  come  right  in!  that  man's 
always  upsetting  our  calculations  in  some  way.* 


GENERAL  PRACTICE  i6l 

In  a  western  city  lives  an  undertaker  by  the 
name  of  Brown,  a  great  wag.  and  always  ready  to 
play  a  joke;  also  a  doctor  who  is  a  joker,  and  is 
always  ready  to  tell  on  himself;  and  a  **monument 
maker  **  who  is  of  the  same  kidney. 

One  day  the  doctor  was  driving  at  full  speed 
down  a  business  street,  when  Brown  spied  him. 
Brown  was  in  his  wagon,  with  the  sign  of  his  pro- 
fession on  the  side.  Whipping  up  his  horse,  he 
came  as  close  to  the  doctor  as  possible,  and  glanc- 
ing round,  he  spied  the  monument-maker.  Calling 
to  the  monument-maker  to  hurry  up.  Brown  called 
out:  ^*Go  on,  doctor,  go  on;  we're  coming.** 

The  doctor  looked  round,  and  dismay  was  pic- 
tured on  his  countenance.  He  whipped  up  his 
horse,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  the  undertaker  and 
the  monument-maker  following  closely.  At  last  the 
ridiculous  part  of  the  thing  struck  him,  and  lean- 
ing back  in  his  buggy  he  gave  vent  to  his  laughter, 
in  spite  of  the  thought,  **What  a  sign  for  a  prom- 
inent physician  this  is !  ** 


Sarcastic  Judge  to  Medical  Expert  — ^*  Can  you 
tell  the  court  how  much  arsenic  will  kill  a  fly  ? " 

Medical  Expert  — *■'•  Certainly,  if  the  court  will 
tell  me  the  age  and  nationality,  the  temperament, 
the  habits  and  the  condition  of  the  fly,  whether 
married  or  single,  a  widow,  spinster,  or  bachelor,* 


Physicians  mend  or  end  us, 

Secundum  artem:  but  although  we  sneer 
In  health  —  when  ill,  we  call   them  to  attend  us, 

Without  the  least  propensity  to  jeer. 

—Byron— ^^  Don  Juan?'*    Canto  X,  St.  42. 


<*  I  ASKED  our  doctor  his  motto  the  other  night. " 
<<  What  did  he  say  ?  **      *  Patience   and  long   suffer- 


ing.» 


D.L.H. — II 


l62  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

While  the  boundary  line  of  Virginia  and  North 
Carolina  was  in  dispute,  the  residence  of  a  lady- 
was  uncertain  as  to  the  State.  When  the  line  was 
established,  she  was  in  Virginia.  « I  am  very  glad 
of  it,  '^  she  observed,  <<  for  North  Carolina  is  always 
such  a  sickly  State.^^ 

Doctor's  night-bell  rings  furiously  at  2  A.   M. 
Doctor  (head  out  of  the  window) —  **  Well  ?  >* 
Shrill  voice  from  below  —  "  No,  imbecile  —  ill!  * 


Mrs.  Ruggs  —  «  Why  do  you  dislike  Mr.  Curem?>* 
Mrs.  Muggs  —  ^*  He  cured    my    husband's    rheu- 
matism, so  he  can  never  tell  when  it    is    going    to 
rain,  and  last  week  I  spoiled  a  brand-new  hat.* 


Medical  men  are  to  be  envied:  if  they  cure  us 
we  are  loud  in  their  praise ;  but  if  they  do  not,  we 
preserve  a  dead  silence. 


^^You  are  suffering  from  a  complication  of  dis- 
eases, Mr.   Stein,  at  least  six." 

^^  How  much  discount  you  gif  me  on  halef  a 
dozen,  Doctor  ?  * 


**  Yes,  Doctor,  it  still  hurts  me  to  breathe  —  in 
fact,  the  only  trouble  now  seems  to  be  my  breath.  * 

*^  Oh,  well,  I'll  give  you  something  that  will 
soon  stop  that.* 


A  ROBUST  countryman  hid  as  a  doctor  approached, 
saying:  ^*  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  been  sick,  that 
I  am  ashamed  to  look  a  physician  in  the  face.* 


SOME   FAMOUS   DOCTORS 


Nothing  is  more  estimable  than  a  physician  who,  having 
studied  nature  from  his  youth,  knows  the  properties  of  the 
human  body,  the  diseases  which  assail  it,  the  remedies  which 
will  benefit  it,  exercises  his  art  with  caution,  and  pays  equal 
attention  to  the  rich  and  the  poor. 

—  Voltaire,  «  A  Philosophical  Dictionary. » 


ANECDOTES  OF  DOCTORS 

aoREMOST  among  the  old  English  physi- 
cians whom  we  propose  to  sketch,  must 
stand  out  that  blunt,  clever,  irascible 
Yorkshireman,  Dr.  Radcliffe,  whose 
memory  the  great  library  at  Oxford 
(for  which  he  bequeathed  forty  thousand  pounds) 
will  never  allow  to  perish.  Though  there  was 
perhaps  a  certain  pride  about  his  honest  bluntness, 
we  must  respect  the  man  who  could  tell  the  truth 
even  to  royal  patients. 

Two  years  after  his  arrival  in  London,  Radcliffe 
was  appointed  physician  to  the  Princess  Anne  of 
Denmark ;  and  soon  after  the  accession  of  King  Wil- 
liam, was  rewarded  for  the  cure  of  two  of  William's 
favorites  by  a  present  of  five  hundred  guineas  from 
Privy-purse.  Though  refusing  the  post  of  court 
physician,  Radcliffe  is  said  to  have  received  from 
the  king  in  six  years  nearly  eight  thousand  guineas. 
His  gains,  indeed,  seem  to  have  been  enormous, 
for,  in  1 69 1,  he  received  one  thousand  guineas  from 
Queen  Mary  for  successfully  prescribing  for  the 
young  Duke  of  Gloucester,  the  son  of  the  Princess 

(163) 


1 64  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

Anne ;  and  we  cannot  disbelieve  the  story  that  Dr. 
Gibson  made  a  thousand  a  year  by  receiving  pa- 
tients who  were  unable  to  obtain  admission  to 
Dr.   Radcliflfe. 

In  1694  he  attended  the  good  Queen  Mary  for 
the  small-pox,  and  on  merely  reading  the  prescrip- 
tions of  the  other  physicians,  at  once  pronounced 
her  *  a  dead  woman  *^ ;  a  prediction  very  soon  veri- 
fied. Queens  and  princesses  might  shrug  their 
pretty  shoulders  at  his  name,  but  they  could  not 
dispense  with  Radcliffe's  services,  and  we  find  him 
telling  a  messenger  of  the  Princess  Anne,  "  that  she 
had  nothing  but  the  vapors,  and  was  as  well  as 
any  other  woman  in  the  world,  could  she  but  think 
so.  ^*  He  was  dismissed  the  court  for  this  hit.  Even 
royal  pride,  however,  had  to  bow  before  the  great 
doctor,  and  he  was,  in  1699,  again  sent  for  to  see  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  whom  he  at  once,  abusing 
soundly  the  two  court  physicians,  pronounced  as 
beyond  the  reach  of  medicine. 

In  1695,  King  William  gave  RadclifEe  twelve  hun- 
dred pounds,  and  made  him  the  offer  of  a  baron- 
etcy, which  he  declined,  for  having  gone  abroad  to 
attend  the  Earl  of  Albemarle,  who,  on  his  recovery, 
had  sent  him  four  hundred  guineas  and  a  diamond 
ring.  Even  the  king  Radcliffe  did  little  to  concili- 
ate, and  told  him  frankly  that  all  promises  to  cure 
him  were  futile.  He  might,  he  said,  if  he  gave  up 
drinking  long  toasts  with  the  Earl  of  Bradford 
(who  drank  hard),  live  three  or  four  years;  but  no 
art  would  carry  him  further.  When  the  king  was 
finally  seized  with  dropsy,  and  asked  the  doctor 
what  he  ^*  thought  of  his  legs,  *  Radcliffe  replied : 
*  Why,  truly,  sir,  I  would  not  have  your  Majesty's 
two  legs  for  your  three  kingdoms.* 

Can  we  wonder  that  William  ever  afterwards 
refused  to  see  the  blunt  doctor,  in  spite  of  the  in- 
tercession of  the  Earl  of  Albemarle  and  other 
nobles  ? 


SOME   FAMOUS  DOCTORS  165 

For  many  years,  Queen  Anne  remembered  the 
message  about  the  vapors,  and  never  sent  for  him 
to  the  palace;  but  when  her  ovs^n  husband,  Prince 
George  of  Denmark,  was  dying,  she  had  again  to 
bate  her  pride.  But  Radcliffe  was  both  blunt  and 
rough,  and  told  her  plainly  that  no  medicine  could 
preserve  him  more  than  six  days;  and  the  Prince 
died  of  dropsy  within  that  time. 

Fond  as  Radcliffe  was  of  money,  he  could  bear 
losses  philosophically,  if  the  story  is  true,  that,  los- 
ing five  thousand  pounds  in  a  foolish  commercial 
adventure  he  coolly  remarked  in  his  city  tavern, 
that,  after  all,  it  only  amounted  to  going  up  five 
thousand  more  pairs  of  stairs.  He  was  equally 
calm  when  he  lost  fifteen  thousand  pounds  down 
and  a  city  bride.  With  that  strange  inconsistency 
common  to  human  nature,  Radcliffe,  though  he 
hated  breaking  a  guinea  for  small  payments,  was 
charitable  in  a  large  way.  He  secretly  sent  five 
hundred  pounds  to  the  Nonjuring  clergy  of  Nor- 
wich, and  on  another  occasion  three  hundred  pounds 
to  the  poor  Episcopal  clergy  of  Scotland. 

To  those  whom  he  respected  the  doctor  was 
rough;  to  those  whom  he  despised,  he  was  terri- 
ble indeed.  Tyson  of  Hackney,  a  notorious  usurer 
and  miser,  once  came  to  him  disguised  as  a  poor 
man,  in  order  to  save  the  fee.  Radcliffe  recog- 
nized him,  and  at  once  shook  Death's  dart  in  his  face. 

*^  Go  home,  sir,  and  repent !  *  he  roared.  "  The 
grave  is  ready  for  the  man  who  has  raised  an  im- 
mense estate  out  of  the  spoils  of  orphans  and  wid- 
ows.    You  will  be  a  dead  man,  sir,  in  ten  days.*^ 

Tyson  died  within  the  time,  having  the  wretched 
satisfaction  of  leaving  behind  him  three  hundred 
thousand  pounds. 

Radcliffe,  who  died  in  17 14,  was  succeeded  by 
his  prot^g^.  Dr.  Mead,  the  son  of  a  dissenting 
minister  at  Stepney,  who  first  practiced  inoculation 


l66  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

in  England.  Though  an  ardent  Whig,  Mead  was 
a  friend  of  Pope,  Garth,  and  Arbuthnot.  Educated 
at  Utrecht,  Leyden,  and  Padua,  Mead  became  fa- 
mous at  an  early  age,  and  soon  acquired  a  Euro- 
pean reputation.  Though  a  mild,  forbearing  man, 
he  once  drew  his  sword  on  his  scurrilous  rival.  Dr. 
Woodward,  and  forced  him  to  beg  his  pardon.  His 
grand  house  in  Great  Ormond  Street  contained  a 
library  of  ten  thousand  volumes,  and  curiosities  in- 
numerable, which  he  could  well  afford  to  purchase 
out  of  his  six  thousand  pounds  a  year.  A  liberal 
patron  of  arts  and  sciences,  he  helped  to  start  the 
Foundling  Hospital,  and  was  generous  to  artists 
and  scholars.  As  physician  to  St.  Thomas's  Hos- 
pital, anatomical  lecturer  to  the  Surgeons'  Com- 
pany, and  Vice-President  of  the  Royal  Society,  he 
knew  every  one  who  was  eminent.  He  corresponded 
with  his  old  fellow-student,  Boerhaave,  and  was 
eulogised  by  Pope,  who  says:  "I  highly  esteem  and 
love  that  worthy  man.^* 

Like  his  patron  Radcliffe,  Mead  was  fond  of 
taverns.  He  spent  his  evenings  at  Batson's  coffee- 
house; and  in  the  forenoons,  apothecaries  used  to 
consult  him,  for  half-guinea  fees,  at  Tom's  coffee- 
house, near  Covent  Garden.  With  all  his  learn- 
ing, Mead  believed  that  the  sun  and  moon  had  in- 
fluence over  human  bodies,  and  wrote  a  work  on 
the    subject. 

At  the  age  of  twenty,  Fothergill,  the  son  of  a 
planter  in  Tortola,  released  his  fifty  slaves,  and  be- 
came a  voluntary  beggar;  then  commencing  prac- 
tice, he  amassed  nearly  two  thousand  pounds  in  six 
months,  and  came  to  England,  where  he  soon  be- 
came renowned  for  his  benevolence  and  his  learning. 

Passing  over  Freind,  whose  Jacobitism  got  him 
into  the  Tower,  and  Cheselden,  with  his  predilection 
for  pugilism,  we  pass  on  to  that  excellent  man,  the 


SOME  FAMOUS  DOCTORS  167 

Quaker  physician,  Lettsom.  When  only  forty  years 
of  age,  Dr.  Lettsom  is  said  to  have  made  twelve 
thousand  pounds  per  annum.  The  charity  and  gen- 
erosity of  this  amiable  man  knew  no  bounds.  For 
a  highwayman  who  stopped  him  and  took  his  purse, 
he  obtained  a  commission  in  the  army.  His  rich 
patients  he  neglected  for  the  poor.  He  was  one  of 
the  earliest  supporters  of  the  Margate  Sea-bathing 
Infirmary.  He  promoted  vaccination,  and  helped 
forward  the  Royal  Humane  Society.  Lettsom  is 
described  as  a  tall  man,  with  a  dark  yellow  face. 
The  well-known  epigram  upon  him  ran:  — 

«When  any  sick  to  me  apply 

I  physics,  bleeds,  and  sweats  'em; 
If  after  that  they  choose  to  die. 
What's  that  to  me?  — I  Lettsom.» 

A  greater  man,  and  quite  as  social  and  amiable, 
was  Edward  Jenner,  the  discoverer  of  vaccination. 
A  chance  remark  of  a  Gloucestershire  dairymaid 
was  the  origin  of  his  great  and  useful  discovery. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  Gloucestershire  clergyman; 
and  on  the  expiration  of  his  apprenticeship  to  a 
surgeon  near  Bristol,  studied  under  the  celebrated 
John  Hunter.  In  1790,  Parliament  voted  Jenner 
twenty  thousand  pounds,  as  it  appeared  clearly  from 
a  report  of  the  College  of  Physicians  that,  out  of 
164,311  cases  of  vaccination,  there  had  been  only 
three  deaths.  Jenner  seems  to  have  been  a  meek, 
gentle,  and  modest  man,  astonished  at  his  own 
fame.  The  character  of  the  man  is  well  shown  in 
a  letter  he  wrote  to  Cline,  who  assured  him,  if  he 
came  to  London,  he  would  earn  ten  thousand  pounds 

a  year. 

«  Shall  I,'*  he  says,  « who,  even  in  the  morning 
of  my  days,  sought  the  lowly  and  sequestered  paths 
of  life  in  the  valley,  and  not  the  mountain  —  shall 
I  now  my  evening  is  fast  approaching,  hold  myself 
up  as  an  object  for  fortune  and  for  fame  ?    Admit- 


l68  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

ting  it  as  a  certainty  that  I  obtain  both,  what  stock 
should  I  add  to  my  little  fund  of  happiness  ?  And 
as  for  fame,  what  is  it?  —  a  gilded  butt,  forever 
pierced  with  the  arrows  of  malignancy. » 

John  Hunter  was  a  remarkable  instance  of  nat- 
ural genius  discovering  its  true  bent.  The  Glas- 
gow cabinetmaker's  boy  was  right  when  he  left  the 
plane  and  chisel,  and  turned  anatomical  assistant, 
to  be  in  time  surgeon -general  of  the  army,  and, 
without  a  doubt,  the  first  surgeon  of  Europe.  On 
his  great  collection,  now  in  the  College  of  Surgeons, 
Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  Hunter  is  said  to  have  spent 
ninety  thousand  pounds.  It  was  purchased  by  the 
government  for  fifteen  thousand  pounds.  Hunter's 
skillfulness  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact,  that  he 
once  removed  a  tumor  as  large  as  a  man's  head, 
and  healed  the  wound,  as  surgeons  say,  by  the 
first  intention.  He  was  so  diffident  a  lecturer, 
that  he  is  said  to  have  always  taken  thirty  drops 
of  laudanum  before  he  commenced  his  discourse. 
In  character,  Hunter  was  arrogant  and  contemp- 
tuous, trampling  down  all  opposition.  When  told  of 
a  hostile  criticism  being  published,  he  said :  "  Yes, 
we  have  all  of  us  vermin  that  live  upon  us.  '^  Hun- 
ter died  in  1793,  suddenly,  at  a  meeting  in  St. 
George's  Hospital,  where  some  opposition  had  ir- 
ritated him.  A  fear  of  hydrophobia  from  a  cut  he 
had  received  in  dissecting  a  hydrophobic  patient, 
had  latterly  preyed  much  upon  his  mind.  His 
chief  discoveries  were  in  relation  to  cancer  and 
popliteal  aneurism ;  but  he  carried  the  study  of  anat- 
omy farther  than  his  predecessors,  and  established 
the  existence  of  new  properties  in  the  gastric 
juice.  Hunter  was  fond  of  keeping  wild  animals, 
from  which  he  sometimes  ran  great  risks. 

In  Abernethy,  we  come  again  to  one  of  those 
rough    eccentric   physicians    of   whose   kindness   in- 


SOME  FAMOUS  DOCTORS  169 

numerable  good  stories  are  told.  Like  Dr.  John- 
son, he  had  a  warm  heart  under  a  rough  exterior. 
Though  he  could  be  absolutely  brutal  to  fine  ladies 
and  affected  misses,  he  is  said  to  have  been  an 
amiable  man,  beloved  of  his  family  and  friends. 
But  to  tiresome  patients,  and  malades  tmaginaires^ 
he  was  at  times  the  personation  of  rudeness :  '-'•  Sir, 
that's  enough;  go  home  and  read  my  book.*^  To  a 
lady,  who  complained  of  low  spirits,  he  would  say: 
"  Don't  come  to  me ;  go  and  buy  a  skipping-rope.  ** 
Sometimes,  however,  he  met  his  match.  Curran 
one  day  came  to  consult  him,  and  was  rather  dif- 
fuse in  describing  his  symptoms. 

*Sir,**  said  Abemethy,  *you  had  better  tell  me 
your  whole  life.'^     Upon   which    Curran    sat    down, 

and  seriously  began:  *I  was  bom  in  the  year , 

in    the    county    of ,    Ireland;^*    and    Abemethy 

burst  into  a  laugh,  and  entered  properly  into  his 
case.  A  lady  determined  to  be  brief,  and  to  humor 
the  tyrant,  one  day  entered  his  consulting-room, 
and  thrusting  out  an  injured  hand,  merely  said: 
"My  thumb,  sir.**  "You,  madam,**  he  exclaimed 
in  admiration,  "  are  the  only  sensible  woman  I  ever 
had  for  a  patient.** 

A  gentleman,  equally  determined,  being  roughly 
interrupted,  suddenly  locked  the  door,  put  the 
key  in  his  pocket,  and  insisted  on  being  heard. 
Abemethy  smiled,  and  complimented  the  patient 
on  his  resolution.  To  a  gentleman,  who  gave  him 
twenty  pounds  to  re-attend  his  wife,  he  said :  *  Are 
you  the  fool  who  gave  me  twenty  pounds  the  other 
day  ?  Go  home  and  tell  your  wife  to  dine  earlier, 
and  eat  less;  and  do  you  keep  your  money  in  your 
pocket,  for  no  doctor's  advice  is  worth  twenty 
pounds.  **  To  a  lady,  he  said  severely :  "  Go  home 
and  tell  your  husband  he  will  not  have  a  wife  this 
day  six  months.** 

Abemethy  was  no  respector  of  persons.  Poor  or 
rich,  his    patients   had   to    submissively    take   their 


I70  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

turns,    or    they    might   go   elsewhere.      An    angry 
nobleman  once  broke  into  his  room,  and  stated  his 
rank  and  titles  in  full,   and    asked  Abernethy  if  he 
knew   who   he    was.       To    this   Abernethy   replied: 
«And  I,  sir,  am  John  Abernethy,  surgeon-lecturer 
of  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital,  etc. ;  and  if  you  wish 
to  consult  me,   I  am   now  ready  to    hear  what  you 
have  to    say,  in   return,  sir.»     The    Duke   of  Well- 
ington,    angry    at    having    to    wait   his    turn,    ab- 
ruptly entered  his  room.     Abernethy  asked  him  how 
he  had  entered,  «  By  the  door,  sir.»      «  Then, »  said 
the    irascible   doctor,   <^  I  recommend    you   to    make 
your  exit  the  same  way.'^     He  is  also  said  to  have 
refused  to  attend  George  IV.  till  his  lecture  at  the 
hospital  was  over.     The  point  on  which  Abernethy 
most  insisted  was    the  stomach,    and   through    that 
important  organ   he  declared   all  diseases    could  be 
cured.     The  celebrated    biscuits    which    he  used  to 
eat    and  recommend  were    not  so    called  from  him, 
but  from  the  baker  who  first  invented  them.     That 
there  was   kindness   in    Abernethy,  who  can   deny, 
who  remembers  the    story    of  how    he    returned  all 
his  fees  to  a   poor  widow  who   had   consulted  him, 
and  added  fifty  pounds,  to  enable   her   to   give  her 
sick  child  a    daily  ride  ?      He  had  a  horror   of  ope- 
rations, and  rejoiced  when  the  evil  could  be  averted 
without  such  rough  and  terrible  remedies. 

We  must  not  forget  to  enrol  among  our  doc- 
tors the  poet-doctor,  Akenside,  who,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-three,  wrote  the  Pleasures  of  the  Imagina- 
tion, a  poem  which  Pope  admired  and  eulogised. 
Akenside  is  described  by  one  of  his  best  biogra- 
phers as  a  bundle  of  contraditions.  ^^  By  turns  he  was 
placid,  irritable  —  simple,  affected  —  gracious,  haugh- 
ty—  mean,  benevolent — kind  and  brutal.'^  He  is 
described  as  thin,  pale,  and  lame.  He  was  rough 
to  women,  and  sometimes  paced  the  hospital  pre- 
ceded  by  porters  with    brooms,  to    drive  back   the 


SOME   FAMOUS  DOCTORS  171 

crowd.  The  poet's  classical  tastes  were  ridiculed 
by  Smollett  in  Peregrine  Pickle;  nor  can  we  wonder 
at  Smollett's  ridicule  when  we  read  the  stories  of 
Akenside's  sourness  and  arrogance.  If  he  bullied 
his  poorer  patients,  as  we  are  told  he  did,  we  can 
only  rejoice  at  the  mortification  he  must  have  felt 
when  one  of  the  governors  of  St.  Thomas's  plainly 
told  him :  ^^  Know  thou  art  a  servant  of  this  char- 
ity.» 

Among  eccentric  physicians  we  cannot  select  a 
better  instance  than  Garrick's  enemy,  the  facetious 
Dr.  Monsey.  A  poor  doctor  at  Bury  St.  Edmunds, 
he  obtained  a  patron  by  saving  Lord  Godolophin, 
who  was  on  his  way  to  Newmarket,  from  an  apo- 
plectic attack.  In  London,  he  became  a  friend  of 
Sir  Robert  Walpole. 

**  How  is  it,^^  said  Sir  Robert,  *^  that  nobody  will 
beat  me  at  billiards,  or  contradict  me,  but  Dr. 
Monsey  ?  '* 

** Other  people,^*  said  Monsey,  *get  places:  I 
get  a  dinner  and  praise.*' 

One  of  Monsey's  oddities  was  his  way  of  ex- 
tracting teeth.  He  would  sometimes  fasten  a  bul- 
let to  a  piece  of  catgut,  which  he  fastened  to  the 
guilty  tooth.  He  then  loaded  a  pistol  with  the 
bullet,  and  fired.  He  once  prevailed  on  a  friend 
to  try  this  strange  operation;  but  when  all  was 
ready  the  patient  repented,  and  bawled  out  to 
Monsey  to  stop. 

**Stop!   stop!    I've  changed  my  mind.* 

"  But  I  haven't,  and  you're  a  fool  and  a  cow- 
ard !  '*  said  the  doctor,  pulling  the  trigger  with 
malicious  speed.  Monsey  in  old  age  became  a 
miser;  and  there  is  a  story  told  of  his  returning 
from  a  journey  to  find  his  servants  at  a  tea-party, 
and  just  preparing  to  light  a  fire  in  a  grate  where 
he  had  hidden  gold  and  notes  to  a  large  amount. 
Monsey  died   in  his   ninety-fifth   year,  and   left   his 


172  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

body    to    be    dissected.     His    fortune  —  more    than 
sixteen  thousand  pounds — went  to  his  only  daughter. 

Talking  of  doctor's  fees,  reminds  us  of  Sir  Ast- 
ley  Cooper  and  his  fifteen  thousand  pounds  a  year. 
His  largest  fee  was  thrown  him  in  a  night-cap  by 
an  old  West  India  patient.  An  operation  had  been 
performed,  and  the  two  physicians  had  received 
three  hundred  guineas  each. 

*But  you,  sir,^'  said  the  old  man  to  Sir  Astley, 
*  shall  have  something  better:  take  that;**  and  he 
flung  his  night-cap  at  Sir  Astley. 

«Sir,»  replied  Sir  Astley,  «  I'll  pocket  the 
affront !  **  The  cap  contained  a  draft  for  a  thou- 
sand guineas. 

Nor  let  us,  in  this  cluster  of  doctors  of  the 
olden  time,  forget  that  amiable  friend  of  Pope  — 
Garth,  the  enemy  of  apothecaries,  whom  he  scari- 
fied in  his  poem  The  Dispensary.  Arbuthnot  is 
another  of  the  old  physicians  who  was  a  friend  of 
Pope's.  The  son  of  a  poor  Scotch  clergyman, 
Arbuthnot,  failing  to  get  a  living  at  Dorchester, 
came  to  London,  and  turned  doctor.  Gradually  his 
practice  increased,  and  he  was  appointed  physician- 
in-ordinary  to  Queen  Anne.  He  died  at  last  of 
asthma  and  melancholy. 

Perhaps  no  physician  of  eminence  was  ever  so 
cruelly  set  upon  by  the  wits  as  Garth's  abomina- 
tion. Sir  Richard  Blackmore,  a  conscientious  but 
rather  dull  poet,  whom  Dryden  had  condescended 
to  maul.  That  Sir  Richard  had  once  kept  a  school 
was  the  chief  charge  pressed  home  against  him. 
Nevertheless,  he  seems  to  have  been  a  worthy 
man,  whom  William  III.  knighted,  and  made  phy- 
sician of  the  household. 

Among  the  last  of  the  clever  but  eccentric  class 
of  doctors,  was   Scott  of   Bromley,    who   flourished 


SOME  FAMOUS  DOCTORS  173 

within  the  present  century.  Crowds  flocked  to 
him  from  London  for  his  advice,  although  aware 
that  they  might  meet  with  some  unpleasant  rebuff. 
Scott,  like  some  other  shrewd  physicians,  trusted 
more  to  dietetics  and  general  habits  than  medicine 
for  his  cures.  He  usually  at  a  glance  saw  what 
was  wrong  —  overfeeding,  drinking,  sedentary  em- 
ployment, late  dinners,  snuff-taking,  and  so  on. 
In  a  few  words,  he  peremptorily  ordered  a  change 
in  these  respects.  A  gentleman  having  gone  to 
consult  him,  was  told  to  dine  early  on  a  mutton- 
chop,  drink  no  more  beer,  and  give  up  taking 
snuff.  The  injunction  was  hard,  and  only  to  a 
limited  extent  obeyed.  The  patient  some  time 
afterwards  returned  to  say  that  he  was  not  getting 
well.  Scott  in  an  instant  detected  the  disobedience 
of  his  orders.  **  You  still  take  snuff,  sir  ?  *^  <<  Yes.  ** 
"  Then,  go  away  and  die,  why  trouble  me  ?  **  This 
time,  the  order  was  obeyed  in  all  its  integrity. 
The  patient  got  completely  well,  and  lived  to  be  a 
nonagenarian. 


ON  DR.  MEAD 

When    Mead   reach'd  the    Styx,    Pluto  started   and 

said, 
^*  Confound  him !  he's  come  to   recover  the    dead.  '* 


DOCTOR   REID 

Dr.  Reid,  the  celebrated  medical  writer,  was 
requested  by  a  lady  of  literary  eminence  to  call  at 
her  house. 

*  Be  sure  you  recollect  the  address,*  she  said 
as  she  quitted  the  room,  **  No.  i  Chesterfield 
Street. » 

^<  Madam,'*  said  the  doctor,  **  I  am  too  great  an 
admirer  of  politeness  not  to  remember  Chesterfield, 
and  I  fear,  too  selfish  ever  to  forget  Number  One." 


174  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

DOCTOR   HOLMES 

■p^R.  Holmes  having  been  called  upon  and  con- 
)j  siderably  bored  by  a  gentleman  who  had 
■ devoted  himself  to  lecturing  in  New  Eng- 
land without  much  ability  for  doing  so,  inquired, 
**  "What  are  you  about  at  this  particular  time  ?'^  The 
answer  was,  ^*  Lecturing,  as  usual.  I  hold  forth  this 
evening  at  Roxbury.^*  The  Professor,  clapping  his 
hands  together,  exclaimed,  *^  I  am  glad  of  it.  I 
never  liked  those  Roxbury  people !  '* 


|r.  Holmes  was  usually  very  prompt  at  the 
Harvard  Medical  School,  but  he  was  missed 
one  morning.  Finally  he  entered  the  room 
hurriedly,  glanced  around  with  a  smile  and  said: 
<* Gentlemen,  I  know  I  am  late;  but  there  is  a  lit- 
tle stranger  at  my  house."  And  then,  with  an 
expression  such  as  only  Holmes's  face  could  assume, 
he  continued '.  "  Now  can  any  one  of  you  tell  me 
what  well-known  business  firm  in  Boston  he  is  like  ?  " 
There  was  no  answer.  ^^  He  is  little  and  brown,  * 
said  the  doctor,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  That 
was  a  good  advertisement  for  Little  «&  Brown. 


M 


DOCTOR   BOUDON 

BouDON,  an  eminent  surgeon,  was  one  day 
o  sent  for  by  the  Cardinal  Du  Bois,  Prime- 
Minister  of  France,  to  perform  a  very  serious  opera- 
tion upon  him.  The  cardinal,  on  seeing  him  enter 
the  room,  said  to  him,  "You  must  not  expect  to 
treat  me  in  the  same  rough  manner  as  you  treat 
your  poor  miserable  wretches  at  your  hospital  of 
the  Hotel  Dieu. "  "  My  lord,  *^  replied  M.  Boudon 
with  great  dignity,  "every  one  of  those  miserable 
wretches,  as  your  eminence  is  pleased  to  call  them, 
is  a  prime-minister  in  my  eyes." 


SOME   FAMOUS  DOCTORS  175 


DR.   CABARRUS 


JUST  before  his  death,  Dr.  Cabarrus,  the  great 
homeopathic  physician  of  Paris,  was  sent  for 
by  Mile.  Julia  Barron,  who  was  out  of  sorts.  «  What 
is  the  matter, »  asked  the  Doctor.  « Oh,  I  hardly 
know  myself, »  she  replied;  «my  spirits  are  terribly 
unequal.  Sometimes  I  am  greatly  elated,  and  then 
I  suddenly  sink  into  the  deepest  melancholy. » 
After  a  moment's  reflection,  Cabarrus  said,  gravely: 
«I  am  afraid  there  is  but  one  way  to  cure  you.* 
«  What  is  it  ?  >'  she  inquired,  eagerly.  ^^  You  must 
get  married, »  he  replied,  with  a  mirthful  twinkle 
of  the  eye,  but  still  keeping  a  grave  face.  «Well,» 
said  Mile.  Barron,  after  a  little  hesitation,  followed 
by  a  long-drawn  sigh  of  relief,  "perhaps  you  are 
right  Would  you  marry  me?»  '■'•  Ma  chere,^'*  re- 
plied Cabarrus,  blandly,  « the  doctor  prescribes.-  but 
he  doesn't  take  his  own  medicines.* 


A  DUMAS   IMPROMPTU 

HLEXANDER  DuMAS,  «fils,»  dined  one  day  with 
Dr.  Gistal,  one  of  the  most  eminent  and  pop- 
ular physicians  of  Marseilles.  After  dinner  the 
company  adjourned  to  the  drawing-room,  where 
coffee  was  served.  Here  Gistal  said  to  his  honored 
guest :  "  My  dear  Dumas,  I  know  you  are  a  capital 
hand  at  improvising;  pray  oblige  me  with  four 
lines  in  this  album.*  «With  pleasure,*  the  author 
replied.     He  took  his  pencil  and  wrote:  — 

«For  the  health  and  well-being  of  our  dear  old  town, 
Dr.  Gistal  has  always  been  anxious  —  very. 
Result:  the  hospital  is  now  pulled  down * 

«  You  flatterer!  *  the  doctor  interrupted,  as  he  looked 
over  the  writer's  shoulder.    But  Dumas  continued ;  — 

"And  in  its  place  we've  a  cemetery.* 


176  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


DOCTOR  JENNER 

SIR  William  Jenner  used  to  tell  with  great  gusto 
a  tale  of  a  footman  of  Sir  Andrew  Clark. 
Sir  Andrew  was  well  known  for  his  kindness  to 
his  servants,  who  regarded  their  master  as  the 
greatest  man  in  the  world.  One  day  a  gentleman 
in  urgent  need  of  Sir  Andrew's  services  learned 
from  Jeames  that  it  was  impossible  to  see  the  emi- 
nent physician  except  by  appointment. 

*  But  it  is  most  urgent,  *  cried  the  caller,  in  dis- 
may. 

« Quite  impossible,  sir.'* 

"Well,  can  you  not  tell  me  then,  of  some  one 
else  near  at  hand  ?  '* 

•Well,  sir,*  replied  Jeames,  reflectively,  *  there 
is  a  very  respectable  general  practitioner  named 
Jenner  on  the  other  side  of  the  street;  I  think  I 
may  recommend  him." 


«GOD   SAVE  THE  QUEEN» 

TP^ROFESSOR  Wilson,  a  leading  light  of  Edinburgh 
iP  University,  once  wrote  on  the  blackboard  in 
his  laboratory;  "Professor  Wilson  informs  his  stu- 
dents that  he  has  this  day  been  appointed  honorary 
physician  to  the  Queen." 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  he  had  occasion  to 
leave  the  room,  and  on  returning  found  that  a  stu- 
dent had  added  to  the  announcement  the  words: 
«God  Save  the  Queen. » 


Dr.  Radcliffe,  attending  a  personal  friend,  re- 
fused pay  for  his  services.  When  the  cure  was 
completed  his  friend  thrust  into  his  hand  a  purse 
filled  with  guineas.  The  doctor  said :  "  Well,  I 
can  hold  out  no  longer;  single  I  could  have  refused 
the  guineas,  but  all  together  they  are  irresistible.'* 


SOME  FAMOUS  DOCTORS  177 

DOCTOR    RADCLIFFE 

Dr.  Radcliffe,  while  dining  at  a  convivial  par- 
ty, refused  to  leave  it  to  attend  a  sick  woman. 
Her  husband  thereupon  picked  him  up  bodily  and, 
forcing  him  into  a  carriage,  drove  off  with  him. 
The  doctor  at  first  was  enraged,  but  finally  took  it 
as  a  joke,  and  said:  "Now,  you  impudent  dog  I'll 
be  revenged  on  you,  for  I'll  cure  your  wife.^* 


DOCTOR    MEAD 

Dr.  Mead  often  drank  to  excess.  He  once 
visited  a  duchess,  and  while  feeling  her  pulse  his 
foot  slipped,  and,  referring  to  himself,  he  said, 
*  Drunk,  by  heavens.*^  The  duchess,  imagining  he 
alluded  to  her,  as  she  had  been  drinking  exces- 
sively, offered  him  a  handsome  sum  to  keep  her 
secret. 


Dr.  Mead  was  at  one  time  the  greatest  of  all 
the  London  doctors,  and  was  assailed  in  a  pamphlet 
by  Dr.  Woodward,  Professor  of  Physic  at  the 
Gresham  College.  The  doctors  met,  a  fight  en- 
sued with  swords.  Mead  disarmed  his  adversary, 
and  ordered  him  to  beg  for  his   life. 

"  Never !  '^  said  Woodward  — "  never,  till  I  am 
your  patient !  ^^ 

DOCTOR    ZIMMERMAN 

Frederick  the  Great  was  in  his  last  illness, 
and  one  day  said  to  his  physician,  Zimmerman: 
"You  have,  I  presume,  in  your  day,  helped  many 
a  man  into  the  other  world  ?  * 

This  was  rather  a  bitter  pill  for  the  doctor,  but 
he  gave  a  dose  in  return  when  he  replied:  — 

"Not  so  many  as  your  Majesty,  nor  with  so 
much  honor  to  myself.* 

D.L.H. — 12 


178  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

DOCTOR    GROSS 

A  LADY  meeting  Doctor  Gross,  after  his  recovery 
from  a  severe  illness,  remarked  to  him:  «Oh,  doctor, 
I  rejoice  to  see  you  about  again;  had  we  lost  you, 
our  good  people  would  have  died  by  the  dozen.*' 

« Thank  you,  madam,''  he  replied,  <<but  now  I 
fear  they  will  die  by  the  gross.  * 


DOCTOR    ABERNETHY 

A  LOQUACIOUS  lady  commenced  to  tell  her  com- 
plaint to  Dr.  Abernethy. 

The  doctor  said  —  «  How  long  will  it  take  to  tell 
the  story  ?  * 

*  Twenty  minutes,"  said  she. 

He  said — "Go  on;  I  will  be  back  from  the  next 
street  by  the  time  you  have  done." 


DOCTOR    BARTON 

A  GENTLEMAN  coming  into  the  room  of  Dr.  Bar- 
ton, told  him  that  Mr.  Vowell  was  dead.  "What," 
said  he,  "  Vowell  dead  ?  Let  us  be  thankful  it  was 
neither  U  nor  I." 


THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR 


The  functions  of  a  simple,  earnest,  and  skilful  surgeon, 
living  in  a  small  town  or  village,  and  circulating  in  a 
radius  of  ten  miles,  are,  and  might  always , be  made,  superior 
in  real,  urgent,  and  fitting  relief,  to  the  Lady  Bountiful. 

—  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge. 


THROUGH  THE  FLOOD:  THE  SURGEON'S 
VISIT 

OCTOR  MacLure  did  not  lead  a 
solemn  procession  from  the 
sick-bed  to  the  dining-room, 
and  give  his  opinion  from  the 
hearthrug  with  an  air  of  wis- 
dom bordering  on  the  super- 
natural, because  neither  the 
Drumtochty  houses  nor  his  manners  were  on  that 
large  scale.  He  was  accustomed  to  deliver  him- 
self in  the  yard,  and  to  conclude  his  directions 
with  one  foot  in  the  stirrup;  but  when  he  left  the 
room  where  the  life  of  Annie  Mitchell  was  ebbing 
slowly  away,  our  doctor  said  not  one  word,  and  at 
the  sight  of  his  face  her  husband's  heart  was 
troubled. 

He  was  a  dull  man,  Tammas,  who  could  not 
read  the  meaning  of  a  sign,  and  laboured  under  a 
perpetual  disability  of  speech;  but  love  was  eyes 
to  him  that  day,  and  a  mouth. 

"  Is  't  as  bad  as  yir  lookin',  doctor  ?  Tell 's  the 
truth ;  wuU  Annie  no  come  through  ?  ^^  and  Tammas 
looked  MacLure  straight  in  the  face,  who  never 
flinched  his  duty  or  said  smooth  things. 

*^  A'    wud    gie    onything    tae    say   Annie    hes  a 

(179) 


l8o  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

chance,  but  a'  daurna;  a'  doot  yir  gaein'  to  lose 
her,  Tammas.  ** 

MacLure  was  in  the  saddle,  and  as  he  gave  his 
judgment  he  laid  his  hand  on  Tammas's  shoulder 
with  one  of  the  rare  caresses  that  pass  between 
men. 

«  It's  a  sair  business,  but  ye  'ill  play  the  man 
and  no  vex  Annie;  she  'ill  dae  her  best,  a'll  war- 
rant.* 

*^  An'  a'll  dae  mine ; "  and  Tammas  gave  Mac- 
Lure's  hand  a  grip  that  would  have  crushed  the 
bones  of  a  weakling.  Drumtochty  felt  in  such  mo- 
ments the  brotherliness  of  this  rough-looking  man, 
and  loved  him. 

Tammas  hid  his  face  in  Jess's  mane,  who  looked 
round  with  sorrow  in  her  beautiful  eyes,  for  she 
had  seen  many  tragedies,  and  in  this  silent  sym- 
pathy the  stricken  man  drank  his  cup,  drop  by 
drop. 

*  A'  wesna  prepared  for  this,  for  a'  aye  thoct  she 
wud  live  the  langest.  She's  younger  than  me  by 
ten  years,  and  never  wes  ill.  We've  been  mairit 
twal  year  laist  Martinmas,  but  it's  juist  like  a  year 
the  day.  A'  wes  never  worthy  o'  her,  the  bonniest, 
snoddest  (neatest),  kindliest  lass  in  the  Glen.  A' 
never  cud  mak  oot  hoo  she  ever  lookit  at  me,  'at 
hesna  hed  ae  word  tae  say  aboot  her  till  it's  ower 
late.  She  didna  cuist  up  tae  me  that  a'  wesna  worthy 
o'  her,  no  her,  but  aye  she  said,  *  Yir  ma  ain 
gudeman,  and  nane  cud  be  kinder  tae  me.*  An'  a' 
wes  minded  tae  be  kind,  but  a'  see  noo  mony  little 
trokes  a'  micht  hae  dune  for  her,  and  noo  the  time 
is  bye.  Naebody  kens  hoo  patient  she  wes  wi'  me, 
and  aye  made  the  best  o'  me,  an'  never  pit  me  to 
shame  afore  the  fouk.  An'  we  never  hed  ae  cross 
word,  no  ane  in  twal  year.  We  were  mair  man  and 
wife,  we  were  sweethearts  a'  the  time.  Oh,  ma 
bonnie  lass,  what  'ill  the  bairnies  an'  me  dae  with- 
oot  ye,  Annie  ?  ** 


THE  COUNTRY   DOCTOR  i8i 

The  winter  night  was  falling  fast,  the  snow  lay 
deep  upon  the  ground,  and  the  merciless  north  wind 
moaned  through  the  close  as  Tammas  wrestled  with 
his  sorrow  dry-eyed,  for  tears  were  denied  Drum- 
tochty  men.  Neither  [the  doctor  nor  Jess  moved 
hand  or  foot,  but  their  hearts  were  with  their  fel- 
low creature,  and  at  length  the  doctor  made  a  sign 
to  Marget  Howe,  who  had  come  out  in  search  of 
Tammas,  and  now  stood  by  his  side. 

**  Dinna  mourn  tae  the  brakin'  o'  yir  hert,  Tam- 
mas,*^ she  said,  *^  as  if  Annie  an'  you  hed  never 
loved.  Neither  death  nor  time  can  pairt  them  that 
love;  there's  neathin'  in  a'  the  warld  sae  strong  as 
love.  If  Annie  gaes  frae  the  sicht  o'  yir  een  she 
'ill  come  the  nearer  tae  yir  hert.  She  wants  tae 
see  ye,  and  tae  hear  ye  say  that  ye'll  never  forget 
her  nicht  nor  day  till  ye  meet  in  the  land  where 
there's  nae  partin'.  Oh,  a'  ken  what  a'm  sayin',  for 
it's  five  year  noo  sin  George  gied  awa,  an'  he's 
mair  wi'  me  noo  than  when  he  wes  in  Edinboro' 
and  I  wes  in  Drumtochty. '^ 

"  Thank  ye  kindly,  Marget;  thae  are  gude  words 
and  true,  an'  ye  hev  the  richt  tae  say  them ;  but  a' 
canna  dae  without  seein'  Annie  comin'  tae  meet  me 
in  the  gloamin',  an'  gaein'  in  an'  oot  the  hoose,  an' 
hearin'  her  ca'  me  by  ma  name,  an'  a'll  no  can  tell 
her  that  a'  luve  her  when  there's  nae  Annie  in  the 
hoose. 

"  Can  naethin'  be  dune,  doctor  ?  Ye  savit  Flora 
Cammil,  and  young  Burnbrae,  an'  yon  shepherd's 
wife,  Dunleith  wy,  an'  we  were  a'  sae  prood  o'  ye, 
an'  pleased  tae  think  that  ye  hed  keepit  deith  frae 
anither  hame.  Can  ye  no'  think  o'  somethin'  tae 
help  Annie,  and  gie  her  back  tae  her  man  and 
bairnies  ?  *^  and  Tammas  searched  the  doctor's  face 
in  the  cold,  weird  light. 

"  There's  nae  pooer  in  heaven  or  airth  like  luve,  '* 
Marget  said  to  me  afterwards;  *Mt  maks  the  weak 
strong  and  the  dumb  tae  speak.     Oor  herts  were  as 


l82  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

water  afore  Tammas's  words,  an'  a'  saw  the  doctor 
shake  in  his  saddle.  A'  never  kent  till  that  meenut 
hoo  he  hed  a  share  in  a'body's  grief,  an'  carried  the 
heaviest  wecht  o'  a'  the  Glen.  A'  peetied  him  wi' 
Tammas  lookin'  at  him  sae  wistfully,  as  if  he  hed 
the  keys  o'  life  an'  deith  in  his  hands.  But  he  wes 
honest,  and  wudna  hold  oot  a  false  houp  tae  de- 
ceive a  sore  hert  or  win  escape  for  himsel'.  ^* 

*  Ye  needna  plead  wi'  me,  Tammas,  to  dae  the 
best  a'  can  for  yir  wife.  Man,  a'  kent  her  lang- 
afore  ye  ever  luved  her;  a'brocht  her  intae  the 
warld,  and  a*  saw  her  through  the  fever  when  she 
wes  a  bit  lassikie;  a'  closed  her  mither's  een,  and 
it  wes  me  hed  to  tell  her  she  wes  an  orphan,  an' 
nea  man  wes  better  pleased  when  she  got  a  gude 
husband,  and  a'  helpit  her  wi'  her  fower  bairns. 
A've  naither  wife  nor  bairns  o'  ma  own,  an'  a'  coont 
a'  the  fauk  o'  the  Glen  ma  family.  Div  ye  think 
a'  wudna  save  Annie  if  I  cud  ?  If  there  wes  a 
man  in  Muirtown  'at  cud  dae  mair  for  her,  a'd  have 
him  this  verra  nicht,  but  a'  the  doctors  in  Perth- 
shire are  helpless  for  this  tribble. 

'*  Tammas,  ma  puir  fallow,  if  it  could  avail,  a' 
tell  ye  a'  wud  lay  down  this  auld  worn-oot  ruckle 
o'  a  body  o'  mine  juist  tae  see  ye  baith  sittin'  at 
the  fireside,  an'  the  bairns  round  ye,  couthy  an' 
canty  again;  but  it's  no  tae  be,  Tammas,  it's  no 
tae  be.  ^^ 

*  When  a'  lookit  at  the  doctor's  face,"  Marget 
said,  "  a'  thocht  him  the  winsome st  man  a'  ever 
saw.  He  wes  transfigured  that  nicht,  for  a'm' 
judging  there's  nae  transfiguration  like  luve.'* 

*  It's  God's  wull  an'  maun  be  borne,  but  it's  a 
sair  wull  for  me,  an'  a'm  no  ungratefu'  tae  you, 
doctor,  for  a'  ye've  dune  and  what  ye  said  the 
nicht,  *  and  Tammas  went  back  to  sit  with  Annie 
for  the  last  time. 

Jess  picked  her  way  through  the  deep  snow  to 
the  main  road,  with    a   skill   that    came   with   long 


THE   COUNTRY   DOCTOR  183 

experience,  and  the  doctor  held  converse  with  her. 

«  Eh,  Jess  wumman,  yon  wes  the  hardest  wark 
a'  hae  tae  face,  and  a'  wud  raither  hae  ta'en  ma 
chance  o'  anither  row  in  a  Glen  Urtach  drift  than 
tell  Tammas  Mitchell  his  wife  wes  deein'. 

«  A'  said  she  cudna  be  cured,  and  it  wes  true, 
for  there's  juist  ae  man  in  the  land  fit  for't,  and 
they  micht  as  weel  try  'tae  get  the  mune  oot  o' 
heaven.  Sae  a'  said  naethin'  tae  vex  Tammas's 
hert — ,  for  it's  heavy  eneuch  withoot  regrets. 

«  But  it's  hard,  Jess,  that  money  wull  buy  life 
after  a',  an'  if  Annie  wes  a  duchess  her  man 
wudna  lose  her;  but  bein'  only  a  puir  cottar's  wife, 
she  maun  dee  afore  the  week's  oot. 

«  Gin  we  hed  him  the  morn  there's  little  doot 
she  wud  be  saved,  for  he  hasna  lost  mair  than  five 
per  cent,  o'  his  cases,  and  they  'ill  be  puir  toon's 
creaturs,  no  strappin'  women  like  Annie. 

«It's  oot  o'  the  question,  Jess,  sae  hurry  up, 
lass,  for  we've  hed  a  heavy  day.  But  it  wud  be 
the  grandest  thing  that  wes  ever  dune  in  the  Glen 
in  oor  time  if  it  could  be  managed  by  hook  or 
crook. 

«We'ill  gang  and  see  Drumsheugh,  Jess;  he's 
anither  man  sin'  Geordie  Hoo's  deith,  and  he  wes 
kinder  than  fouk  kent;^^  and  the  doctor  passed  at 
a  gallop  through  the  village,  whose  lights  shone 
across  the  white  frost-bound   road. 

«Come  in  by,  doctor;  a'  heard  ye  on  the  road; 
ye  'ill  hae  been  at  Tammas  Mitchell's ;  hoo's  the 
gudewife  ?  a'  doot  she's  sober.'* 

« Annie's  deein',  Drumsheugh,  an'  Tammas  is 
like  tae  brak  his  hert.* 

« That's  no  lichtsome,  doctor,  no  lichtsome  ava, 
for  a'  dinna  ken  ony  man  in  Drumtochty  sae  bund 
up  in  his  wife  as  Tammas,  and  there's  no  a  bon- 
nier wumman  o'  her  age  crosses  oor  kirk  door  than 
Annie,  nor    a    cleverer    at    her    wark.     Man,  ye'ill 


l84  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE  HOUR 

need  tae  pit  yir  brains   in  steep.     Is  she  clean  be- 
yond ye  ?  '* 

« Beyond  me  and  every  ither  in  the  land  but 
ane,  and  it  wud  cost  a  hundred  guineas  tae  bring 
him  tae  Drumtochty." 

«Certes,  he's  no  blate;  it's  a  fell  charge  for  a 
short  day's  work;  but  hundred  or  no  hundred 
we'll  hae  him,  an'  no  let  Annie  gang,  and  her  no 
half  her  years.*' 

« Are  ye  meanin'  it,  Drumsheugh  ? "  and  Mac 
Lure  turned  white  below  the  tan. 

« William  MacLure,**  said  Drumsheugh,  in  one 
of  the  few  confidences  that  ever  broke  the  Drums- 
heugh reserve,  ^<  a'm  a  lonely  man,  wi'  naebody  o' 
ma  ain  blude  tae  care  for  me  livin',  or  tae  lift  me 
intae  ma  coffin  when  a'm  deid. 

« A'  feclit  awa  at  Muirtown  market  for  an  ex- 
tra pund  on  a  beast,  or  a  shillin'  on  the  quarter  o' 
barley,  an'  what's  the  gute  o't  ?  Burnbrae  gaes  aff 
tae  get  a  goon  for  his  wife  or  a  buke  for  his  col- 
lege laddie,  an'  Lachlan  Campbell  'ill  no  leave  the 
place  noo  withoot  a  ribbon  for  Flora.  Ilka  man  in 
the  Kildrummie  train  hae  some  bit  fairin'  in  his 
pooch  for  the  fauk  at  hame  that  he's  bocht  wi'  the 
siller  he  won. 

«  But  there's  naebody  tae  be  lookin'  oot  for  me, 
an'  comin'  doon  the  road  tae  meet  me,  an'  daffin' 
(joking)  wi'  me  aboot  their  fairing,  or  feeling  ma 
pockets.  Ou  a'  a've  seen  it  a'  at  ither  hooses, 
though  they  tried  tae  hide  it  frae  me  for  fear  a' 
wud  lauch  at  them.  Me  lauch,  in'  ma  cauld,  empty 
hame! 

"  Yir  the  only  man  kens,  Weelum,  that  I  aince 
luved  the  noblest  wumman  in  the  Glen  or  ony- 
where,  an'  a'  luve  her  still,  but  wi'  anither  luve  noo. 

«  She  hed  given  her  heart  tae  anither,  or  a've 
trocht  a'  micht  hae  won  her,  though  nae  man  be 
worthy    o'   sic   a  gift.     Ma  hert   turned    tae  bitter- 


THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR  185 

ness,  but  that  passed  awa  beside  the  brier  bush 
where  George  Hoo  lay  yon  sad  simmer  time. 
Some  day  a'll  tell  ye  ma  story,  Weelum,  for  you 
an'  me  are  auld  freends,  and  will  be  till  we  dee." 
MacLure  felt  beneath  the  table  for  Drums- 
heugh's    hand,    but    neither     man    looked    at     the 

other. 

«Well,  a'  we  can  dae  noo,  Weelum,  gin  we 
haena  mickle  brichtness  in  oor  ain  hames,  is  tae 
keep  the  licht  frae  gaein'  oot  in  anither  hoose. 
Write  the  telegram,  man,  and  Sandy  'ill  send  it 
aff  frae  Kildrummie  this  verra  nicht,  and  ye'ill 
hae  yir  man  the  morn." 

«Yir  the  man  a'  coonted  ye,  Drumsheugh,  but 
ye  'ill  grant  me  ae  favour.  Ye  'ill  lat  me  pay  the 
half,  bit  by  bit  — a'ken  yir  wull'in'  tae  dae  't  a'— 
but  a'  haena  mony  pleesures,  an'  a'  wud  like  tae 
hae  ma  ain  share  in  savin'  Annie's  life." 

Next   morning  a  figure   received   Sir  George  on 
the  Kildrummie   platform,  whom  that    famous  sur- 
geon took  for  a  gillee,  but  who  introduced  himself 
as  «  MacLure,  of  Drumtochty."     It  seemed  as  if  the 
East  had   come   to  meet   the  West  when   these  two 
stood    together,    the   one    in   travelling    furs,  hand- 
some  and   distinguished,  with   his   strong,   cultured 
face  and  carriage  of  authority,  a  characteristic  type 
of  his  profession;  and  the  other  more  marvellously 
dressed   than   ever,  for    Drumsheugh's   topcoat  had 
been   forced   upon   him    for  the    occasion,  his    face 
and  neck  one  redness  with   the  bitter  cold;   rough 
and  ungainly,  yet  not  without  some  signs  of  power 
in  his  eye  and  voice,  the    most  heroic   type   of   his 
noble  profession.     MacLure  compassed  the  precious 
arrival  with  observances  till  he  was  securely  seated 
in  Drumsheugh's  dogcart  — a  vehicle  that  lent  itself 
to    history  — with    two    full-sized    plaids    added    to 
his  equipment  — Drumsheugh  and  Hillocks  had  both 
been  requisitioned  —  and  MacLure  wrapped  another 
plaid  round  a  leather  case,  which  was  placed  below 


l86  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

the  seat  with  such  reverence  as  might  be  given  to 
the  Queen's  regalia.  Peter  attended  their  departure 
full  of  interest,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  in  the  fir 
woods  MacLure  explained  that  it  would  be  an  event- 
ful journey. 

"  It's  richt  in  here,  for  the  wind  disna  get  at  the 
snaw,  but  the  drifts  are  deep  in  the  Glen,  and  th'ill 
be  some  engineerin'  afore  we  get  tae  oor  destina- 
tion.» 

Four  times  they  left  the  road  and  took  their 
way  over  fields,  twice  they  forced  a  passage  through 
a  slap  in  the  dyke,  thrice  they  used  gaps  in  the 
paling  which  MacLure  had  made  on  his  downward 
journey. 

"A'  seleckt  the  road  this  mornin',  an'  a'  ken 
the  depth  tae  an  inch;  we  'ill  get  through  this 
steadin'  here  tae  the  main  road,  but  oor  worst  job 
'ill  be  crossin'  the  Tochty. 

**Ye  see  the  bridge  hes  been  shakin'  wi'  this 
winter's  flood,  and  we  daurna  venture  on  it,  sae 
we  hev  tae  ford,  and  the  snaw's  been  melting  up 
Urtach  way.  There's  nae  doot  the  water's  gey  big, 
an'  its  threatenin'  tae  rise,  but  we  'ill  win  through 
wi',,a  warstle. 

'^  It  micht  be  safer  tae  lift  the  instruments  oot 
o'  reach  o'  the  water;  wud  ye  mind  haddin'  then  on 
yir  knee  till  we're  ower,  an'  keep  firm  in  yir  seat 
in  case  we  come  on  a  stane  in  the  bed  o'  the  river.* 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  edge,  and  it 
was  not  a  cheering  sight.  The  Tochty  had  spread 
out  over  the  meadows,  and  while  they  waited  they 
could  see  it  cover  another  two  inches  on  the  tinink 
of  a  tree.  There  are  summer  floods,  when  the  wa- 
ter is  blown  and  flecked  with  foam,  but  this  was  a 
winter  flood,  which  is  black  and  sullen,  and  runs 
in  the  centre  with  a  strong,  fierce,  silent  current. 
Upon  the  opposite  side  Hillocks  stood  to  give  direc- 
tions by  word  and  hand,  as  the  ford  was  on  his  land, 
and  none  knew  the  Tochty  better  in  all  its  ways. 


THE   COUNTRY   DOCTOR  187 

They  passed  through  the  shallow  water  without 
mishap,  save  when  the  wheel  struck  a  hidden  stone 
or  fell  suddenly  into  a  rut;  but  when  they  neared 
the  body  of  the  river  MacLure  halted,  to  give  Jess 
a  minute's  breathing. 

"  It  '  ill  take  ye  a'  yir  time,  lass,  an'  a'  wud 
raither  be  on  yir  back;  but  ye  never  failed  me  yet, 
an'  a  wumman's  life  is  hangin'  on  the  crossin'.  *^ 

With  the  first  plunge  into  the  bed  of  the  stream 
the  water  rose  to  the  axles,  and  then  it  crept  up 
to  the  shafts,  so  that  the  surgeon  could  feel  it  lap- 
ping in  about  his  feet,  while  the  dogcart  began  to 
quiver,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  to  be  carried 
away.  Sir  George  was  as  brave  as  most  men,  but 
he  had  never  forded  a  Highland  river  in  flood,  and 
the  mass  of  black  water  racing  past  beneath,  be- 
fore, behind  him,  affected  his  imagination  and 
shook  his  nerves  He  rose  from  his  seat  and  or- 
dered MacLure  to  turn  back,  declaring  that  he 
would  be  condemned  utterly  and  eternally  if  he  al- 
lowed himself  to  be  drowned  for  any  person. 

"Sit  doon,^'  thundered  MacLure;  "condemned 
ye  will  be  suner  or  later  gin  ye  shirk  yir  duty,  but 
through  the  water  ye  gang  the  day. '^ 

Both  men  spoke  much  more  strongly  and  shortly, 
but  this  is  what  they  intended  to  say,  and  it  was 
MacLure  that  prevailed. 

Jess  trailed  her  feet  along  the  ground  with  cun- 
ning art,  and  held  her  shoulder  against  the  stream ; 
MacLure  leaned  forward  in  his  seat,  a  rein  in  each 
hand,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  Hillocks,  who  was  now 
standing  up  to  the  waist  in  the  water,  shouting 
directions  and  cheering  on  horse  and  driver. 

"  Haud  tae  the  richt,  doctor;  there's  a  hole  yon- 
der. Keep  oot  o'  t  for  ony  sake.  That's  it ;  yir 
daein'  fine.  Steady,  man,  steady.  Yir  at  the  deep- 
est; sit  heavy  in  yir  seats.  Up  the  channel  noo, 
an'  ye'  11  be  oot  o'  the  swirl.  Weel  dime,  Jess, 
weel  dune,  auld  mare.     Mak  straicht  for  me,  doctor, 


l88  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE  HOUR 

an'  a' 11  gie  ye  the  road  oot.  Ma  word,  ye've  dune 
yir  best,  baith  o'  ye  this  morninV^  cried  Hillocks, 
splashing  up  to  the  dogcart,  now  in  the  shallows. 

«  Sail,  it  wes  titch  an'  go  for  a  meenut  in  the 
middle ;  a  Hielan'  ford  is  a  kittle  (hazardous)  road 
in  the  snaw  time,  but  ye're  safe  noo. 

"  Gude  luck  tae  ye  up  at  Westerton,  sir;  nane 
but  a  richt-hearted  man  wud  hae  riskit  the  Tochty 
in  flood.  Ye're  bound  tae  succeed  aifter  sic  a 
graund  beginnin',  ^^  for  it  had  spread  already  that  a 
famous  surgeon  had  come  to  do  his  best  for  Annie, 
Tammas  Mitchell's  wife. 

Two  hours  later  MacLure  came  out  from  Annie's 
room  and  laid  hold  of  Tammas,  a  heap  of  speech- 
less misery  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  carried  him  off 
to  the  barn,  and  spread  some  corn  on  the  thresh- 
ing floor  and  thrust  a  flail  into  his  hands. 

^^  Noo  we've  tae  begin,  an'  we  'ill  no  be  dune 
for  an'  oor,  and  ye've  tae  lay  on  withoot  stoppin' 
till  a'  come  for  ye,  an'  a'll  shut  the  door  tae  hand 
in  the  noise,  an'  keep  yir  dog  beside  ye,  for  there 
maunna  be  a  cheep  aboot  the  hoose  for  Annie's  sake. " 

**  A'll  dae  onything  ye  want  me,  but  if  —  if " 

*^  A'll  come  for  ye,  Tammas,  gin  there  be 
danger;  but  what  are  ye  feared  for  wi'  the  Queen's 
ain  surgeon   here  ?  '* 

Fifty  minutes  did  the  flail  rise  and  fall,  save 
twice,  when  Tammas  crept  to  the  door  and  listened, 
the  dog  lifting  his  head  and  whining. 

It  seemed  twelve  hours  instead  of  one  when  the 
door  swung  back,  and  MacLure  filled  the  doorway, 
preceded  by  a  great  burst  of  light,  for  the  sun  had 
arisen,  on  the  snow. 

His  face  was  as  tidings  of  great  joy,  and  Els- 
peth  told  me  that  there  was  nothing  like  it  to  be 
seen  that  afternoon  for  glory,  save  the  sun  itself 
in  the  heavens. 

<<A'  never  saw  the  marrow  o't,  Tammas,  an' 
a'll    never    see  the  like    again;    it's    a'    over,    man, 


THE   COUNTRY  DOCTOR  189 

withoot   a    hitch    frae   beginnin'   tae  end,  and  she's 
fa'n  asleep  as  fine  as  ye  Hke.'^ 

*  Dis  he  think  Annie     ...     '11  live  ? » 

"Of  coorse  he  dis,  and  be  aboot  the  house  in- 
side a  month;  that's  the  gude  o'  bein'  a  clean- 
bluidded,  weel-livin' 

"  Preserve  ye,  man,  what's  wrang  wi'  ye?  It's 
a  mercy  a'  keppit  ye,  or  we  wud  hev  anither  job 
for  Sir  George. 

^^  Ye're  a'  richt  noo ;  sit  doon  on  the  strae.  A'll 
come  back  in  a  whilie,  an'  ye'll  see  Annie  juist 
for  a  meenut;  but  ye  maunna  say  a  word.^^ 

Marget  took  him  in  and  let  him  kneel  by  An- 
nie's bedside. 

He  said  nothing  then  or  afterward,  for  speech 
came  only  once  in  his  lifetime  to  Tammas,  but 
Annie  whispered,  "Ma  ain  dear  man.*^ 

When  the  doctor  placed  the  precious  bag  beside 
Sir  George  in  our  solitary  first  next  morning,  he 
laid  a  check  beside  it  and  was  about  to  leave. 

*  No,  no,^^  said  the  great  man.  "Mrs.  Macfad- 
yen  and  I  were  on  the  gossip  last  night,  and  I 
know  the  whole  story  about  you  and  your  friend.** 

*You  have  some  right  to  call  me  a  coward,  but 
I'll  never  let  you  count  me  a  mean,  miserly  rascal,** 
and  the  check  with  Drumsheugh's  painful  writing 
fell  in  fifty  pieces  on  the  floor. 

As  the  train  began  to  move,  a  voice  from  the 
first  called  so  that  all  in  the  station  heard :  — 

"  Give  's  another  shake  of  your  hand,  MacLure ; 
I'm  proud  to  have  met  you;  you  are  an  honor  to 
our  profession.     Mind  the  antiseptic  dressings.** 

It  was  market-day,  but  only  Jamie  Soutar  and 
Hillocks  had  ventured  down. 

*  Did  ye  hear  yon.  Hillocks  ?  hoo  dae  ye  feel  ? 
A'll  no  deny  a'm  lifted.** 

Half  way  to  the  Junction  Hillocks  had  recov- 
ered and  began  to  grasp  the  situation. 


190  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

«Tell  's  what  he  said.  A'  wud  like  to  hae  it 
exact  for  Drumsheugh. '* 

«Thae  's  the  eedentical  words,  an'  they're  true; 
there's  no  a  man  in  Drumtochty  disna  ken  that, 
except  ane.'^ 

*  An'  wha's  that,  Jamie  ? '' 

« It's  Weelum  MacLure  himsel.  Man,  a've  often 
girned  that  he  sud  fecht  awa  for  us  a',  and  maybe 
dee  before  he  kent  that  he  hed  githered  mair  luve 
than  ony  man  in  the  Glen. 

«<A'm  prood  tae  hae  met  ye,>  says  Sir  George, 
an'  him  the  greatest  doctor  in  the  land.  <Yir  an 
honor  tae  oor  profession.* 

« Hillocks,  a'  wudna   hae   missed   it   for   twenty 

notes, '>  said   James  Soutar,  cynic-in-ordinary  to  the 

Parish  of  Drumtochty. 

—  Ian  MacLaren. 


THE   FAMILY    DOCTOR 

yHEN  I  git  to  musin'  deeply 
'Bout  them  times  what  use  to  be, 
An'  the  swellin'  tide  o'  mem'ry 
Comes  a  sweepin*  over  me. 
Then  among  the  wrecks  o'  long  ago 

That's  driftin'  on  the  crags, 
I  can  see  our  fam'ly  doctor 

With  his  leather  saddlebags; 
With  his  crown  so  bare  an'  shiny 

An'  his  whiskers  white  as  snow, 
With  his  nose  jest  like  a  piney 

That's  beginnin'  fer  to  blow  — 
Fer  he  painted  it  with  somethin' 
From  his  bottles  'r  his  kags. 
That  he  alius  carried  with  him 
In  his  rusty  saddlebags. 


THE  COUNTRY   DOCTOR  19I 

When  the  whoopiii '-cough  was  ragin' 

'R  the  measles  was  aroun', 
Then  he'd  mount  his  rhuburb  pony 

An'  go  trottin'  out  o'  town 
With  his  saddleskirts  a-floppin' 

An'  his  laigin's  all  in  rags, 
An'  the  roots  an'  herbs  a-stuffin' 

Out  his  pussy  saddlebags. 

Then  when  mam'  was  down  with  fever 

An'  we  thought  that  she 'Id  die, 
That  ol'  feller  didn't  leave  'er 

An'  he  never  shut  an  eye; 
But  he  set  there  like  a  pilot 

Fer  to  keep'er  from  the  snags, 
An'  he  brought  her  through  the  riffle 

With  his  musty  saddlebags. 

I  can  see  'im  with  his  glasses 

Set  a  straddle  of  his  nose, 
With  his  broad-'rimmed  loppy  beaver 

An'  his  loose,  ol'  fashioned  clo'es; 
I  can  see  'im  tyin'  at  the  gate 

The  laziest  o'  nags. 
An'  come  puffin'  up  the  pathway 

With  his  heavy  saddlebags. 

But  he  started  on  his  travels, 

Many,  many  years  ago, 
Fer  the  place  where  life  unravels 

An'  dividin'  waters  flow; 
So  I  hope  he's  reached  the  haven 

Where  no  anchor  ever  drags. 
An'  has  landed  safe  in  heaven 

With  his  shinin'  saddlebags! 

—  Dr.  James  Ball  Naylor. 


igi  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


A    COUNTRY    DOCTOR 

iOR  more  than  thirty  years  it  has  been  my 
good  fortune  to  possess  the  acquaintance 
of  a  certain  country  doctor  —  a  man  un- 
known to   the   world   at   large,  but  yet, 
like   many    another    of    his    class,    a  man   that    the 
world  would  honor  itself  in  honoring. 

Even  in  my  youngest  days  I  knew  him.  His 
tall  form,  his  lean  but  kindly  countenance,  his  thin 
hair  and  tuft  of  chin  beard,  were  among  the  earliest 
images  of  my  childhood.  Often  I  played  in  his 
yard.  Often  he  would  call  me  into  his  office  where 
he  sat  at  study,  there  to  read  to  me  from  his  books, 
or  to  demonstrate  to  me  the  bones  of  a  skeleton, 
or,  if  the  day  was  clear,  to  show  me  in  his  micro- 
scope the  structure  of  the  kidney  or  lung.  Often, 
too,  I  went  with  him  on  his  rounds;  many  a  long 
summer  day  we  rode,  from  farmhouse  to  farmhouse, 
uphill  and  downhill  and  along  prairie,  until  at  last, 
as  the  darkness  settled  about  us,  I  clung  close  to 
his  side  and  fell  asleep  beneath  his  arm.  I  naturally 
did  not  much  understand  in  those  days  the  various 
excellences  of  the  doctor's  character;  but  I  recall 
how  kind  and  gentle  he  always  seemed  to  me,  and 
I  remember  especially  the  keen  sense  of  childish 
pity  with  which,  when  I  happened  to  awake  one 
stormy  night,  I  heard  him  drive  from  the  stable 
and  down  street  in  the  cold  wind  and  rain. 

In  my  youth  and  early  manhood  it  was  my 
pleasant  lot  to  pursue  the  study  of  medicine  under 
this  doctor,  and  then  I  ever  found  him  both  a  skill- 
ful physician  and  a  man  of  most  interesting  and 
amiable  personality.  His  dominant  passion,  I  think, 
was  his  love  of  children.  I  have  never  seen  another 
man  in  whose  affections  children  held  so  large  a 
place.  He  used  to  shout  at  the  children  as  we 
passed   along   the    road,    and  if   sickness   were  not 


THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR  X93 

urgent  he  would  stop  his  horse,  call  them  to  the 
side  of  his  buggy,  and  teach  them  to  count  in 
Latin  and  Greek.  How  many  a  bright  toy  did  he 
not  take  to  sick  children  of  the  poor!  How  many 
a  word  of  endearment  did  he  not  speak  to  them! 
And  how  many  a  night,  when  only  he  was  up,  did 
he  not  study,  hour  by  hour,  to  relieve  the  suffer- 
ings of  children  the  more  especially! 

A  hundred  instances  occur  to  me  of  the  doctor's 
intense  devotion  to  children.  What  a  night  was 
that  when  Joe  Shepard,  worthless  fellow,  came  in 
at  10  o'clock,  dripping  from  top  to  toe  with  rain! 
The  lightning  flashed  incessantly  and  roar  after 
roar  of  thunder  burst  about  our  very  ears.  Joe 
took  up  his  position  next  the  stove;  the  night  was 
chill.  The  doctor  was  abed,  where  indeed  he  had 
been  for  three  days,  sick  of  a  fever.  Would  the 
doctor  come  to  see  his  folks  ?  No;  it  was  out  of 
the  question,  he  was  sick  himself.  **  It's  mainly  the 
little  feller,  Doc."  "What!  Not  the  one  I  gave 
the  jumping-jack  to?"  <<  Yes,  him,"  said  Joe.  "All 
right,"  said  the  doctor,  "I'll  go."  And  go  he  did, 
though  I  had  to  help  him  dress. 

The  doctor  had  once  in  his  care  a  child  to 
whom  he  had  taken  a  great  fancy  —  a  child  of  poor 
and  shiftless  parents  who  lived  far  out  in  the  coun- 
try, "on  the  back  of  another  man's  farm."  There 
was  not  the  slightest  prospect  of  pay  in  the  case, 
and  the  house  was  so  situated  as  to  require  much 
time  and  trouble  to  reach  it.  Yet  the  doctor  vis- 
ited the  child  regularly  and  gave  it  his  most  earn- 
est thought  and  devoted  attention.  Day  after  day 
we  went  to  the  cottage  and  day  after  day  the  doc- 
tor's face  grew  more  clouded  and  anxious.  At  last 
there  came  a  change.  Yes ;  the  child  was  certainly 
better,  though  the  disease  was  treacherous.  Then, 
one  day,  the  doctor  took  with  him  a  toy  book  —  a 
brilliantly  colored  affair  —  and  he  showed  it  to  me 
on  the  way,  and    said  how  cheap  and  poor  a  thing 

D.L.H. — 13 


194 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


it  takes  to  make  a  child  happy,  and  how  much 
more  intense,  besides,  the  happiness  of  childhood  is 
than  the  happiness  of  older  life.  I  stayed  in  the 
buggy  that  day  and  waited  for  the  doctor.  As  he 
entered  the  doorway  I  saw  the  toy  book  sticking 
from  his  pocket.  He  was  not  long  gone,  and  when 
he  came  out  his  head  was  bowed  and  he  had  his 
handkerchief  to  his  nose,  blowing  vigorously,  and 
from  his  pocket  still  projected  the  toy  book. 

And  the  children  appreciated  the  kind  doctor. 
They  used  always  to  answer  his  shout  as  we  passed 
along  the  road;  and  now  and  then  some  urchin 
more  enthusiastic  than  the  rest  would  come  tearing 
down  to  the  gate,  mount  it,  and  shout  after  us  his 
^''Unus,  one;  dtio,  two,*^  until  we  were  out  of  sight. 
Many  of  them  used  to  call  him  '-'-My  doctor.  ^^  And 
I  have  seldom  seen  anything  more  touching  than 
once  when  a  sick,  indeed  almost  a  dying,  child, 
spread  its  thin,  blue  lips  into  a  smile  and  miir- 
mured  ^^ My  doctor,*^  as  the  doctor  approached  its 
bed. 

Next  to  the  doctor's  love  of  children  came  his 
love  of  nature.  When,  on  our  rounds  we  left  a 
farmhouse  the  first  thing  was,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  to  discuss  the  case.  That  over,  he  invaria- 
bly talked  of  the  pleasant  sights  and  sounds  around 
us.  It  mattered  not  what  the  day  was  —  sunny 
day  or  cloudy,  colored  day  of  autumn,  white  day 
of  winter,  budding  green  day  of  spring  —  all  days 
alike  were  to  him  beautiful  and  pleasant.  Even 
days  of  storm  he  found  not  wholly  unacceptable. 
He  used  to  say  that  a  man  listening  to  the  rain 
on  his  buggy-top  and  his  horse's  hoofs  in  the  pools 
would,  if  normal,  possess  a  sense  of  shelter  and 
snugness  never  felt  elsewhere. 

But  his  favorite  days  were  those  of  early  sum- 
mer. Then  it  was  that  he  fairly  grew  ecstatic. 
Then  it  was  that  he  talked  by  the  hour  of  a 
meadow  lark   that   sang   from   a  rail-tip;  of  a  field 


THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR  195 

of  wheat  where  a  red  and  yellow  reaper  clicked 
and  clacked  round  a  square  of  standing  grain;  of 
the  blue-vaulted  sky  and  its  infinite  distances  and 
its  massive  piled-up  clouds  that  sailed  along  like 
chains  of  floating  mountains.  The  clouds,  indeed, 
which  were  the  doctor's  greatest  delight  of  all, 
sometimes  inspired  him  so  much  that  he  broke 
into  verse.  His  lines  were  always  somewhat  stilted 
and  bombastic,  but  no  one  could  have  known  it 
better  than  he  did  himself,  for  he  always  over- 
charged them  purposely  as  he  neared  their  end, 
and  then  laughed  at  them  heartily.  Then,  too,  the 
clouds  always  suggested  Italy.  Italy  —  that  was 
his  theme.  Italy  —  the  land  of  Caesar  and  Cicero, 
of  Virgil  and  Horace  —  for  the  doctor  was  a  classi- 
cal scholar  —  but,  better  still,  the  land  where  cloud 
and  sky  are  more  than  elsewhere  on  earth  of 
divine  and  inexpressible  beauty.  ^*  I  shall  certainly 
go  to  Italy  some  day,  '^  he  would  always  say,  ^^  when 
I  get  money  enough  ahead. '^ 

There  was  one  side  of  the  doctor's  character 
which,  upon  first  acquaintance,  you  might  not  have 
suspected  —  his  humor.  Shy  and  even  timid  among 
strangers,  he  became,  at  times,  among  his  older 
families  and  when  we  two  were  alone  together  in 
the  buggy,  the  most  jovial  and  jocular  of  men. 
Many  a  moment  in  the  sickroom  he  rendered 
lighter  with  his  merriment,  and  many  a  convales- 
cent, leaning  on  elbow  and  listening  to  his  happy 
talk  and  clear  ringing  laugh,  must  have  thought 
that  even  sunshine  could  have  been  no  better.  In 
the  buggy  he  sometimes  stooped  to  nonsense.  I 
can  hear  him  now  singing:  — 

«  Oh,  a  green  peach  pudding  and  a  blackberry  pie, 
A  black  cat  kicked  out  a  yellow  cat's  eye.* 

But  his  funny  moods  never  lasted  long.  He  was 
essentially  a  grave  and  serious  man,  full  of  cares 
and  full  of  tenderness  and  pity  for  the  sick. 


196  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Indeed  these  qualities  of  tenderness  and  pity 
serve  to  explain,  I  think,  in  some  measure,  his  in- 
tense devotion  to  his  studies.  Medical  works  were 
to  him  not  mere  dry  treatises  on  science.  They 
were  storehouses  of  facts  that  were  to  be  of  service 
to  suffering  humanity.  Whenever  he  read  of  a 
disease  he  seemed  to  see  some  person  that  had  it. 
Whenever  he  read  of  a  remedy,  he  seemed  to  see 
some  pallid  countenance  looking  up  imploringly  for 
relief.  Every  new  book,  every  new  number  of  a 
journal,  he  read  with  the  utmost  avidity,  as  one 
whose  brother  was  condemned  to  die  might  read 
some  legal  document  in  which  he  expected  to  find 
a  word  of  reprieve  or  pardon. 

Even  in  his  experiments,  to  which,  for  some 
years  at  least,  he  was  greatly  given,  you  could 
trace  the  influence  of  his  kindliness  and  sympathy. 
In  his  little  one-room  office  —  an  apartment  of  his 
house  —  he  would  not  infrequently  sit  up  half  the 
night  pouring  this  thing  into  that  and  triturating 
something  else  with  the  other;  and  the  commonest 
object  of  his  search  was  —  to  find  some  way  of 
rendering  nauseous  medicines  pleasant  and  pala- 
table. Agreeable  pharmacy,  you  see,  we  did  not 
have  in  those  days.  None  of  his  experiments,  I 
believe,  ever  came  to  anything.  He  lacked  the 
necessary  apparatus,  and  more  than  that  he  lacked 
the  necessary  leisure.  But  some  of  the  ideas  he 
worked  on  in  those  days  have  since  been  taken  up 
by  large  manufacturing  houses  and  have  made  them 
rich  and  famous. 

As  might  be  supposed  from  his  great  sympathy, 
the  doctor  almost  never  refused  a  call.  Whether 
he  was  summoned  in  the  daytime  or  in  the  early 
evening,  or  in  the  later  evening  when  only  he  was 
up  sitting  at  his  books,  or  in  the  far  dead  of  night 
he  was  always  ready  for  duty.  Suns  were  never 
glaring  enough,  nights  were  never  dark  enough, 
roads  rough  enough,  or  muddy  enough,  rains  pour- 


THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR  197 

ing  enough,  frosts  cold  enough,  snows  deep  enough, 
winds  loud  or  chill  enough,  to  keep  him  from  the 
sick.  And  *^  rich  or  poor  ^*  made  no  difference. 
The  only  question  was,  did  some  one  need  him  ? 

I  remember  that  one  morning  after  the  doctor 
had  been  out  all  of  a  black  and  stormy  night,  we 
were  very  much  startled  by  seeing  his  horse  come 
tearing  down  the  street  to  the  gate,  without  driver, 
without  buggy,  and  with  only  a  few  pieces  of  harness 
clinging  to  his  back.  A  messenger  arrived 
shortly  afterward  to  say  that  the  doctor  had  been 
run  away  with,  and  had  been  thrown  from  his 
buggy,  but  that  he  had  not  been  much  hurt,  and 
hence  had  got  another  horse  and  buggy  and 
would  make  another  call  or  two  before  returning 
home.  He  was  really  in  a  sad  and  sorry  plight, 
as  we  found  when  he  got  back.  His  clothing  was 
torn  and  covered  with  mud,  his  face  was  scratched 
and  bloody,  and  his  arms  and  shoulders  were  so 
badly  bruised  that  we  wondered  they  had  not  been 
broken.  He  was  sick,  too,  for  several  days.  We 
scolded  him  not  a  little  because  he  had  not  come 
back  as  soon  as  he  was  hurt.  But  what  could  he 
do,  he  said.  There  was  a  poor  old  sick  woman  a 
few  miles  further  down  the  road,  and  a  few  miles 
further  still  a  sick  child,  both  of  whom  needed 
assistance  badly;  and  as  for  himself,  why  ke  could 
wait. 

I  know  of  nothing  more  suggestive  of  the  hard- 
ships of  the  doctor's  life  than  a  collection  which 
he  used  to  keep  in  a  drawer  of  his  office  of  the 
various  buggy  lanterns  which  at  one  time  or 
another  he  had  used  in  his  practice.  Why  he  kept 
them  I  never  knew.  All  of  them  were  useless. 
Most  of  them  were  eaten  out  by  rust;  some  of 
them  —  curious,  patented  things  —  had  never  been 
of  service;  others  were  mashed  and  twisted  from 
runaways  and  wrecks.  But  they  told  a  story  of 
many  a  bad  night. 


198  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE   HOUR 

A  man  who  once  saw  those  lanterns  said  to 
me  that  at  a  time  when  he  was  sick  for  several 
weeks  he  used  as  he  lay  of  a  night  to  watch  for 
the  light  of  the  doctor's  lantern  as  it  first  appeared 
at  the  turn  in  the  road.  One  night  he  became 
much  worse.  As  he  was  a  poor  man  and  the 
night  was  so  dark  and  stormy,  he  feared  that  the 
doctor  would  not  come  in  time.  Lying  there 
in  agony,  he  took  one  of  those  strange  fancies  that 
sick  men  not  infrequently  take.  He  said  to  him- 
self that  if  the  doctor's  light  appeared  by  i  o'clock, 
the  usual  time,  he  would  live ;  if  not,  he  would  die. 
And  he  lay  and  waited.  A  little  before  one  the 
doctor's  light  appeared.  It  seemed  to  him,  he  said, 
the  brightest  star  that  ever  dawned.  I  have  often 
thought  that  in  the  many  years  of  the  doctor's  prac- 
tice ten  thousand  other  eyes  must  have  watched  no 
less  eagerly  for  the  light  of  his  lantern  as  it  came 
shining  down  the  country  road,  bearing  its  mes- 
sages of  life  and  health  and  happiness  and  joy. 

Into  the  sick  room  this  doctor  must  have  come 
like  hope.  You  could  tell  by  the  compression  of 
his  lips  that  he  meant  to  save;  and  you  could  tell 
by  the  calm  of  his  eye  that  his  sympathy  had  not 
perverted  his  judgment.  He  had  a  way,  when  he 
began  to  examine  a  patient,  of  whistling  softly  to 
himself.  Then  he  went  slowly  and  cautiously  from 
symptom  to  symptom.  Nothing  escaped  him.  There 
was  no  hurry.  No  matter  how  sickly  the  time  or 
how  sleepy  and  aching  his  head,  everything  must 
be  gone  over  systematically,  carefully,  critically. 
Some  one  thing  might  make  all  the  difference.  I 
can  see  him  now  rubbing  his  spectacles  to  make 
sure  he  has  read  his  thermometer  with  the  utmost 
accuracy.  Then,  when  he  took  up  his  "  pill-bags  *^ 
and  placed  them  with  the  band  across  his  knees 
and  spread  out  the  powder-papers  on  the  band 
and  took  up  the  bottles  and  dosed  the  medicine  on 
the  papers,    and   then   took   up  the  papers  one   by 


THE  COUNTRY   DOCTOR  199 

one  and  folded  them,  you  saw  in  every  step  the 
same  great  precision,  the  same  thoughtful  care. 
What  a  void  he  must  have  left  in  the  sick-room 
when,  at  last,  the  round  of  instructions  gone  over 
for  the  second  and  even  the  third  time,  he  shoul- 
dered his  « pill-bags^'  and  departed!  Surely  no 
money  could  ever  pay  such  a  doctor,  and  surely, 
had  he  not  had  a  family  of  his  own,  scarcely  a 
thought  of  money  had  ever  entered  his  head. 

I  must  relate  an  incident  that  illustrates  the  doc- 
tor's intense  and  bulldog-like  pertinacity  in  a  hand- 
to-hand  encounter  with  death.  A  man  who  had 
taken  an  over-dose  of  morphin  was  given  up  by 
his  other  physicians  to  die.  Nothing,  they  said, 
could  now  be  of  any  service  to  him.  Anything 
further  done  to  keep  him  awake  would  be  mere 
unnecessary  pain  and  torture  to  him.  But  this 
doctor  did  not  give  him  up.  He  stayed  with  him 
day  and  night.  When  the  lungs  threatened  to 
breathe  no  more  he  started  them  with  electricity 
or  with  burning  paper  to  the  nape  of  the  neck 
and  the  spine,  or  with  artificial  respiration.  The 
neighbors  came  about,  as  neighbors  sometimes  will, 
and  said  it  was  a  sin  and  a  shame,  that  it  ought 
to  be  stopped,  that  the  misguided  doctor  was  sim- 
ply mutilating  a  corpse.  But  the  doctor  did  not 
heed  them.  He  turned  his  other  cases  to  the  other 
doctors  and  kept  on.  He  tried  everything  of  which 
he  had  read  or  heard  or  dreamed.  The  hours  of 
the  night  wore  slowly  away.  The  hours  of  the 
next  day  wore  slowly  away.  And  then  those  of  the 
next  night.  Finally,  at  sunrise  on  the  second  day, 
the  'last  of  the  effects  of  the  morphin  had  gone 
and  the  man  stood  up  and  looked  upon  the  earth 
and  lived.  His  neck  and  back  were  somewhat  blis- 
tered and  sore,  but  he  lived.     And  he  lives  to-day. 

-^ell  —  even  in  these  later  years  my  acquaint- 
ance with  this  country  doctor  does  not  cease.  He 
is  still  in  active  practice,   and  on  my  visits  to  my 


200  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

native  town  I  always  meet  him  and  always  ride 
with  him  in  the  country.  Our  rides  have  not  much 
changed.  Again  he  discusses  the  cases,  again  he 
shouts  at  the  children,  again  he  talks  of  the  beauty 
of  field  and  sky,  again  he  says  he  means  to  visit 
Italy  some  day  when  he  gets  money  enough  ahead. 

I  am  inexpressibly  pained,  on  some  of  these 
visits,  to  observe  that  the  furrows  in  his  face  are 
growing  deeper;  that  his  form,  once  erect  and 
elastic,  is  getting  stiff  and  stooped,  and  that  his 
clear,  almost  ringing,  voice  is  beginning  to  show, 
though  happily  at  long  intervals,  the  tremors  and 
quavers  of  age.  Yet  his  kindly  face  and  his  old- 
time  figure  still  make,  I  ween,  no  less  pleasant  a 
picture  as  they  enter  the  sick  man's  doorway,  and 
his  cheery  voice  still  makes  to  the  sick  man's  ear 
no  less  pleasant  and  hope-inspiring  music.  Still  he 
goes  about  his  duties,  still  he  goes  on  his  mission 
of  health-giving  and  hope-giving,  still  he  responds 
to  the  calls  of  rich  and  poor  alike,  by  night 
and  by  day,  in  sunshine  and  in  storm.  Sometimes 
I  think  that  he  has  done  enough;  that  forty  and 
odd  years  of  practice  on  those  hills  should  consti- 
tute sufficient  of  duties  performed  for  any  one  man. 
And  yet  I  know  that  did  he  cease  to  practice  he 
would  be  unhappy,  and  that  many  a  sick  child 
would  miss  '^  my  doctor,  ^^  and  that  many  a  sick 
man  or  woman,  looking  out  of  window,  would  long 
in  vain  to  see  the  old  white-headed  physician  come 
once  more,  *^  pill-bags  *  in  hand,  along  the  path. 

Such,  gentle  reader,  is  my  weak  and  inadequate 
description  of  the  character  of  my  father.  Being 
my  father,  he  naturally  occupies  in  my  estimation 
a  higher  place  than  could  possibly  there  be  given 
to  any  other  man.  And  yet,  if  I  err  not,  there 
are  practicing  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  this 
country  many  hundreds,  nay,  possibly  even  thou- 
sands, of  country  doctors  who,  in  skill  and  in  judg- 
ment, in  geniality,  kindliness,  tenderness,  sympathy. 


THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR 


and  ready  response  to  calls;  dogged  and  never- 
ending  pertinacity  in  the  fight  with  our  old  and 
common  enemy  —  disease  —  are  almost  the  equals 
of  my  father.     What  more  could  I  say  for  them  ? 

—  Thomas  H.  Shastid,  M.  D. 


SATISFACTORY    TO   ALL 

DN  THE  country  around  the  town  of  Daley ville, 
Georgia,  there  live  a  number  of  **  crackers,  ^* 
who  are  as  deeply  religious  as  they  are  ignorant 
and  illiterate. 

For  many  years  Dr.  Jones  has  been  the  favorite 
physician  among  these  people,  who  always  wanted 
him  to  name  the  new  babies  as  they  arrived,  and 
invariably  insisted  on  having  Bible  names.  Finally 
the  doctor's  patience  gave  out,  and  he  declared  he 
would  not  name  any  more  children;  it  was  enough 
for  him  to  have  the  responsibility  of  their  safe 
arrival  in  this  vale  of  tears,  without  racking  his 
brain  for  new  and  attractive  Bible  names.  But 
one  day  twins  arrived  in  the  family  of  one  of  his 
"  cracker  '*  patients,  and  the  proud  parents  insisted 
that  the  doctor  should  make  an  exception  to  his 
rule  on  such  an  occasion. 

Remonstrance  was  in  vain,  but  the  doctor  was 
in  a  bad  humor,  and  said,  "  All  right,  then ;  I'll 
name  them  Belshazzar  and  Beelzebub;  then  you 
can  call  the  girl  Belle  and  the  boy  Bub.*' 

**•  Them's  mighty  fine  names,  doc,  **  said  the 
father.  *  Hi,  maw !  *  calling  to  the  grandmother. 
"  Doc  has  named  the  youngsters  Belshazzar  an' 
Beelzebub!* 

*Waal,*  she  replied,  as  she  entered  the  room, 
*  ef  they's  only  ez  good  ez  them  they's  named  fer, 
hit's  all  I  ask.» 


202  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


THE    COUNTRY    DOCTOR    IN    IRELAND 

?HERE  are  two  enemies  hard  to  conquer  in 
this  Country  of  the  Young.  One  is  belief 
in  witchcraft,  the  other  a  love  for  "  matter 
out  of  place.  *>  In  my  district  the  people  really  be- 
lieve in  Lilliputians,  or  little  people.  They  still 
visit  a  wizened  witch  doctor  to  have  ^'  dead  hands  * 
exorcised  from  bewitched  butter,  and  they  hunt 
mythical  hares  as  often  as  living  red  game. 

Quite  lately  I  was  asked  to  visit  a  maiden  of 
half  a  century  who  was  possessed  with  a  ^<  demmur.  ^* 
Now  I  know  Lizzie  Redmond  is  only  suffering  from 
loneliness  pure  and  simple.  Her  tiny  shanty, 
dumped  down  in  a  narrow  boreen,  is  surrounded 
by  acres  of  golden  gorse,  miles  of  peat  land,  and 
fields  of  silky  bog  cotton.  No  neighbor,  however, 
enlivens  gray  existence  for  poor  Lizzie.  Whatever 
is  non-understandable  to  the  unprofessional  mind 
in  Sallyboggin  is  called  a  <<  demmur,  ^^  and  is  treated 
as  a  possession  of  the  evil  one.  Hence  I  found 
Lizzie  lying  on  the  mud  floor  of  her  cabin  in  a 
<*  stripped  *  condition.  On  her  naked  breast  was  a 
penny.  On  the  penny  an  end  of  a  candle.  Over 
both  penny  and  candle  rested  an  inverted  tumbler. 
A  *  wise  woman  '^  was  standing  gazing  earnestly  at 
her  handiwork  and  muttering  a  charm. 

*  Ah,  doctor,  darlint,  **  screamed  Lizzie  triumph- 
antly as  I  entered  the  room,  ^*it's  a  live  demmur! 
and  the  wise  woman  has  located  it,  doctor,  dear! 
See  it  a-leppin'  an'  a-risen'  into  the  glass.'* 

I  took  in  the  matter  at  a  glance.  The  wise 
woman  had  first  exhausted  air  by  lighting  her 
candle  end  and  immediately  covering  it  with  a 
tumbler.  This,  of  course,  acted  as  a  kind  of  cup- 
ping-glass, and  flesh  rose  into  the  vacuum. 

In  vain  I  demonstrated  on  my  own  arm  (burn- 
ing a  hole  in  my  shirt  sleeve  as  I  did  so).     Lizzie 


THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR  20.3 

saw  **  the  too,  too  solid  flesh  '^  thereon  following  the 
law  of  suction  as  well  "as  the  demmur  under  the 
breast-bone.  But  she  clung  to  the  belief  in  the  wise 
woman,  and  I  was  dismissed  with  ignominy! 

In  Ireland  we  do  not   take   offense  at  this  kind 

of  thing.     I  wrote  to  Lizzie's  landlord,  Lord  C , 

saying  the  woman  was  growing  *  soft,  '^  and  by  re- 
turn post  received  Si  jQi  note  to  pay  expenses  of  a 
change  for  her.  A  short  spell  in  Dublin  worked 
wonders.  The  demmur  no  longer  set  her  heart  a 
gallopin',  and  ^*  the  joulting  of  the  train  stopped 
the  beatin'  ov  her  poolse.^^ 

My  skill  was  equally  slighted  by  another  patient. 
She  told  me  her  liver  was  troubling  her,  pointing 
at  the  same  time  to  a  spot  high  up  under  her  left 
arm.  "God  bless  us!  woman, ^*  I  roared,  "your  liver 
does  not  lie  there." 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  know  where  my  own  liver 
lies,*  was  her  dignified,  insulted  remark.  "Haven't 
I  suffered  from  it  these  twenty  years  ?  * 

A  third  patient  was  more  grande  dame  than 
either  of  these  twain.  On  being  called  in  —  my 
"  token  '*  being  a  certain  red  ticket  —  I  asked,  "  And 
what's  the  matter  with  you,   Mrs.  Doolan  ? " 

"I'm  thinkin'  that's  for  you  to  tell  me,"  was 
the  haughty  response,  just  as  if  she  were  paying 
me  a  five-guinea  fee. 

I  have,  of  course,  a  due  circle  of  patients  who 
firmly  believe  in  every  bolus  given  by  any  Escula- 
pius.     To  one  such  went  my  friend,  the  vicar,  lately. 

"  How  are  you  to-day,  Mrs.  Neale  ? "  was  the 
question  addressed  sympathetically  to  the  greatest 
grumbler  in  Sallyboggin. 

"Ah!  very,  very  bad.  'Tis  the  degestion,  your 
reverence!  Like  a  hive  of  bees  a-buzzin'  an'  a- 
buzzin'  in  my  buzzum." 

"Is  it  always  the  same  ? "  inquired  the  vicar, 
his  eyes  twinkling,  but  with  immovable  face  (for 
we  learn  to  compose  our  countenances  in  Ireland) 


204  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

"  Nay !  not  at  all,  your  reverence.  'Tis  often 
like  a  load  of  bricks  a  poundin'  an'  a  poundin', 
that's  when  the  bees  ain't  a  buzzin'.  But* —  and 
the   wrinkled,    smokegrimed    old    face    brightened; 

*  but  the  doctor  —  God  bless  him  —  is  after  givin' 
me  a  description,  an'  if  it  don't  cure  me,  he'll  de- 
scribe me  agin.'* 

In  Sallyboggin  for  years  a  certain  old  woman 
levied  a  weekly  tribute  on  charitably  disposed  folk. 
All  at  once  a  "  nevvy  *  from  America  turned  up, 
called  on  her  *^  pattrons, '*  and  after  thanking  them 
for  their  kindness,  carried  off  his  mother's  sister  to 
end  her  days  in  comfort.  But  the  widow  Hooligan 
—  pronounced  ^*  Hooli'han '* — did  not  lay  her  bones 
across  the  water.  She  soon  reappeared.  **  I  couldn't 
stop  in  it,  misthress,  dear,'*  she  explained  to  a  lady. 

*  Me  sister's  son's  a  good  bhoy,  but  between  our- 
selves, they  would  ha'  washed  me  to  death.* 


OUT    IN    KANSAS 

*  What's  become  of  old  Dr.  Dulavan,  who  used 
to  live  down  at  Skaler's  Cove  ?  * 

*  Oh,  he's  been  in  the  poor-house  a  long  spell.  ** 

*  In  the  poor-house  ?     How  ?  * 

"  Waal,  yer  see,  he  was  caught  deceivin'  his 
patients,  an'  the  people  riz  agin  him,  an'  sorter 
boycotted  him.     He  couldn't  git  a  patient* 

*  What  was  the  reason  ?  * 

"Went  ter  givin'  bromide  potas'um  for  snake 
bites,  stid  o'  whiskey.* 


HIS    BENEFICENT    WAY 

City  iV<?///^w— «  What  do  you  think  of  Dr.  Pills- 
bury  as  a  physician  ?  * 

Farmer  Haycohb  — « Safest  dictor  anywhere  in 
this  pert  of  the  country  —  nearly  always  ofiE  fishin' 
when  he's  wanted.* 


THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR 


205 


®APE  Cod,  in  one  of  its  fishy  towns,  has  a  clever 
doctor,  and  a  wag  withal.  In  one  of  his 
rides,  just  leaving  home,  he  was  met  by  a  fleshy, 
panting  female,  whose  bandaged  face  and  forlorn 
aspect  denoted  only  too  well  her  ailment. 

*  Oh !  doctor,  doctor !  *  she  exclaimed,  <'  I  am 
almost  dying  with  toothache!  You  must  return 
immediately  to  your  office  and  give  me  relief.^* 

The  good  man  instantly  signified  his  willingness 
to  do  so,  and  they  soon  reached  his  residence. 

The  lady,  all  trepidation  and  nervousness,  trem- 
blingly sank  into  a  chair  and  awaited  the  dread 
process.  The  doctor,  meantime,  with  the  kindness 
and  considerateness  which  were  always  his  charac- 
teristics, endeavored  to  reassure  and  encourage  her. 
But  as  he  stepped  up  to  her  with  the  *  cruel* 
forceps,  the  perspiration  ran  more  profusely,  the 
patient  sat  more  uneasily,  and  the  mouth  opened 
wider  and  wider,  as  if  it  would  take  in  every  thing 
in  its  immediate  neighborhood. 

*  Again  I  beg  you  to  be  calm,  madam,*  were 
the  words  of  the  physician,  **and  suffer  yourself  to 
have  no  fear.  It  will  be  but  the  work  of  a  moment 
at  the  longest.  And  perhaps,*  he  added,  with  a 
glance  at  the  "  cavernous  *  opening  before  him,  and 
with  just  the  slightest  approach  to  a  waggish 
smile,  *  perhaps  you  might  even  venture  to  close 
the  mouth  a  little^  particularly  as  I  purpose  to  stand 
upon  the  outside  during  the  operation?'* 

Of  course  the  suggestion  was  complied  with, 
but  not  until  the  droll  smile  upon  the  hitherto 
grave  face  of  the  patient  had  assured  the  doctor 
that  his  wit  was  appreciated,  and  that  it  had  driven 
away  all  fear  of  the  operation, 


ao6  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


GOT    WELL 

Deacon  Humsted — <^Then  I  sewed  up  the  cut 
with  waxed  ends  and  covered  it  with  a  coat  of  tar 
to  keep  of  the  flies,  and  the  next  day  the  old  cow 
was  as  good  as  ever.** 

Dr.  Cutter  —  **  You  don't  mean  to  say  she  re- 
covered ?  ** 

Deacon  Humsted — <<  Come  out  of  it  straight  as 
a  string,  sir!  ** 

Dr.   Cutter  —  ^*  Wonderful !  truly  wonderful !  ** 

Deacon  Humsted —  ^*  Yes,  my  son  says  that  shows 
the  difference  between  amatour  and  perfessional 
surgery.  * 

THE    ONLY    SURE    WAY 

Country  Doctor  (catechising)  —  *^  Now,  little  boy, 
what  must  we  all  do  in  order  to  enter  heaven  ?  * 

^^_y_«Die.» 

Country  Doctor  —  *  Quite  right  —  but  what  must 
we  all  do  before  we  die  ?  ** 

Boy  —  "  Get  sick  and  send  for  you !  '* 

South  Carolina  physician,  asked  why  he  lo- 
cated at  Monelova,  said,  **  It  is  a  first-rate 
place  for  a  doctor.  If  a  man  is  sick  all  you  have 
to  do  is  to  tell  his  friends  (no  matter  whether  the 
affair  is  '^serious  or  not)  to  go  to  a  priest  and 
have  him  confessed  and  prepare  for  death,  If  he 
dies,  they  will  say  *  What  a  good  doctor  he  is.  He 
knew  he  must  die,  and  so  had  his  spiritual  inter- 
ests attended  to.*  If  he  recovers  they  will  say 
*  What  a  capable  physician  he  must  be.  The  man 
was  in  the  last  extremity  and  prepared  for  death, 
and  he  cured  him.  *  So  in  either  event  it  is  a  first- 
rate  place  in  which  to  achieve  a  medical  reputa- 
tion.» 


THE  COUNTRY   DOCTOR  207 

COUNTRY  physician,  with  a  keen  appreciation 
of  the  ludicrous  side  of  his  practice,  tells  the 
following :  — 

I  was  called  to  the  Cross  Roads  the  other  day 
to  see  Mrs.  Watson,  who  enjoys  the  singular  repu- 
tation of  not  living  amicably  with  her  husband's 
relatives.  I  found  my  patient  in  bed,  but  on  ex- 
amining into  the  symptoms  was  puzzled  to  make 
out  a  diagnosis. 

"j^Mrs.  Watson,*'  said  I,  **  I  can't  make  out  that 
you're  much  sick,*' 

"Well,  doctor,*  said  she,  drawing  a  long  sigh, 
*  it's  trouble,  I  suppose,  more'n  anything  else.  You 
know  what  his  folks  is.  I  ain't  nothin'  agin  him  in 
partikeler  —  but  his  folks  !  * 


DN  THESE  energetic  go-ahead  days,  we  are  contin- 
ually hearing  of  some  new  and  curious  way  of 
making  money,  but  the  following  method  is,  perhaps, 
as  ingenious  as  any  previously  devised :  A  little  boy 
entered  a  surgery  the  other  day  when  the  village 
doctor  was  in  attendance,  and  marching  up  to  him 
whispered,  cautiously:  ^^  Please,  sir,  mother  sent 
me  to  say  as  how  Lizzie's  got  scarlatina  awful  bad; 
and,  please,  mother  wants  to  know  how  much  you'll 
give  her  to  spread  it  all  over  the  village  ?  *' 


-<g7UTS^gK7(g)«»u'>-, 


THE  DOCTOR'S  WIFE 


My  dear,  my  better  halj. 

—  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Arcadia. 


CERTAIN  eminent  London  physician  has 
a  telephone  in  his  bedroom.  One  night 
quite  recently  the  bell  rang,  waking 
both  him  and  his  wife  from  a  deep 
sleep.  At  once  the  medico  went  to 
the  phone,  and  over  the  wire  came  the  command, 
« Please  come  at  once  to  Lecester  Square  —  Lady 
Brown  is  very  ill."  With  an  imprecation,  he  handed 
the  phone  to  his  wife. 

"  For  heaven's  sake  '*  he  said,  ^*  say  I'm  out  of 
town. " 

She  complied  obediently.  Next  morning  the 
medico  called  at  the  Brown  mansion  and  expressed 
his  deep  regret  to  Lord  Brown  that  he  had  been 
absent  when  called. 

*  But  you  really  were  not  home  ?  *  inquired  his 
lordship,  anxiously. 

"  Of  course  not,  *  unblushingly  replied  the  phy- 
sician. 

"Then  my  dear  doctor,"  said  Brown,  earnestly, 
**  I  must  sympathize  with  you  in  your  terrible  mis- 
fortune, for  I  distinctly  heard  a  man's  voice  in 
your  bedroom,  talking  to  your  wife." 


Physician's    Wife  —  "Are    your     affairs    in    bad 
shape,  John  ? " 

Physician  —  *  Yes,  but   I  hope   to   pull  through. 
My  creditors  have  extended  my  paper  to  the  middle 
of  the  watermelon  season." 
(208) 


THE  DOCTOR'S  WIFE  309 

^LD  Dr.  B ,   of   St.   Lawrence   County,    New 

York,  practiced  medicine  in  the  early  settle- 
ment of  the  country  there,  and  was  noted  as  well 
for  his  kindness  of  heart  as  his  oddity.  Being 
aroused  one  stormy  night  by  a  man  after  ^*  the 
Doctor,  ^^  he  said  to  his  wife,  ^*  Now  I  am  too  tired 
to  get  out.  You  tell  him  I  am  not  at  home,  and 
if  it  is  very  necessary  I  can   go  after  he  is  gone." 

Not  without  some  scruples  Mrs.B announced  to 

the  man  that  the  Doctor  was  not  at  home.  The 
fellow  then  proceeded  to  tell  a  most  pitiful  story, 
when  the  Doctor,  forgetting  every  thing  but  sym- 
pathy for  the  case,  sang  out :  "  I  guess  I'll  go, 
Mary ;  '*  and    at    the  top    of   his    voice    to    the  man ; 

«ril   go   right    along. »     Mrs.   B never   lied  for 

him  after  that. 


NEEDED    THE    MONEY 

Doctor — «That  man  I  just  called  on  has  ap- 
pendicitis.'* 

His  Wife — ^^  I  think  _an  operation  will  be  nec- 
essary, George,* 

Doctor  (in  surprise)  —  *  You  do  ?    Why  ?  * 

His  Wife  —  **  I'll  need  two  new  gowns  next 
month. " 


D.L.H.—H 


THE   DOCTOR'S   HORSE 


That  which  is  now  a  horse,  even  with  a  thought 
The  rack  dislimns,  and  makes  it  indistinct. 
As  water  is  in  water. 

—  Shakespeare,  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra, >>  iv,  14. 


THE    DOCTOR   TO  HIS    HORSE 

H  Billy,  many  a  day  and  night, 

Thro'  sun  and  stormy  weather, 
We've  jogged  along,  as  best  we  might, 

With  aching  hearts  together; 
We've    braved    the    wintry    blasts    that 
poured 
Their  doubling  fury  o'er  us. 
And  many  a  lonely  league  we've  scored 
With  little  cheer  before  us. 

Footsore,  we've  plodded  on  and  on. 

O'er  roads  that  slow  unraveled 
Their  murky  miles,  from  dusk  to  dawn. 

And  chilled  us  as  we  traveled; 
We've  threaded  woods  so  dark  and  mute, 

And  glens  with  gloom  so  thick,  sir. 
The  owls  were  half-afraid  to  hoot, 

And  whippoorwills  grew  sick,  sir. 

Down  country  lanes,  by  churchyards  dim, 

At  midnight  we  have  scurried. 
And  seen  the  eldrich  moonlight  swim 

Above  the  dead  we've  buried; 
For  us  the  fire-fly's  trimmed  his  lamp, 

In  many  a  gloomy  thicket. 
We've  heard  —  down  where  the  beetles  camp  — 

The  rasping  of  the  cricket. 

(2iO) 


THE    DOCTOR'S   HORSE  211 

We've  listened  to  the  snap  and  crack 

Of  heartstrings,  when  the  portal 
Of  life's  proud  temple,  swinging  back. 

Let  free  the  soul  immortal; 
We've  caught  the  sound  of  spirit-wings 

In  hovels  of  affliction. 
And  heard,  amid  such  sufferings, 

Love's  bravest  benediction. 

We've  seen  the  hardened  sinner's  eyes 

Lock  up  their  light  forever. 
With  groans,  and  agonies,  and  cries. 

As  soul  and  sense  did  sever; 
We've  seen  the  good  man's  eyelids  close, 

As  o'er  them  death  did  settle. 
As  softly  as  a  summer  rose 

Shuts  up  its  snowy  petal. 

We've  seen  the  father,  stooped  with  years. 

On  many  a  deathbed  languish, 
We've  heard  the  sobs,  and  seen  the  tears 

Stream  down  the  cheeks  of  anguish  — 
O  comrade  mine!  our  days  have  been 

A  never-ending  trial, 
We've  starved  our  souls,  and  worn  them  thin, 

With  steady  self-denial. 

Old  fellow!  you  have  ever  stood. 

My  friend  in  tribulation. 
And  I  would  give  you,  if  I  could, 

A  royal  recreation; 
Alas!  I'm  racked  with  aches  and  pains,  / 

And  you  are  getting  bony,  ^^ 

And,  Billy,  little  rest  remains 

For  you  and  me,  my  pony. 

Aha!  a  stranger  pauses  here. 

With  clinking  gold  beside  us, 
And  he  would  take  you,  Billy  dear. 

If  ducats  could  divide  us; 
The  wretch!  he  does  not  understand 

Exactly  where  my  heart  is. 
Not  all  the  wealth  at  his  command. 

My  Billy-boy,  could  part  us. 

— James  Newton  Matthews. 


312  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


THE    DOCTOR'S    HORSE 

HE  horse  was  a  colt  when  he  was 
purchased  with  the  money  paid 
by  the  heirs  of  one  of  the  doc- 
tor's patients,  and  those  were  his 
days  of  fire.  At  first  it  was 
opined  that  the  horse  would 
never  do  for  the  doctor:  he  was 
too  nervous,  and  his  nerves  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  doctor's  drugs.  He  shied  at 
every  way-side  bush  and  stone ;  he  ran  away  several 
times;  he  was  loath  to  stand,  and  many  a  time  the 
doctor  in  those  days  was  forced  to  rush  from  the 
bedside  of  patients  to  seize  his  refractory  horse 
by  the  bridle  and  soothe  and  compel  him  to  quiet. 
The  horse  in  that  untamed  youth  of  his  was  like 
a  furnace  of  fierce  animal  fire;  when  he  was  given 
rein  on  a  frosty  morning  the  pound  of  his  iron- 
bound  hoofs  on  the  rigid  roads  cleared  them  of  the 
slow-plodding  country  teams.  A  current  as  of  the 
very  freedom  and  invincibility  of  life  seemed  to 
pass  through  the  taut  reins  to  the  doctor's  hands. 
But  the  doctor  was  the  master  of  his  horse,  as  of  all 
other  things  with  which  he  came  in  contact.  He  was 
a  firm  and  hard  man  in  the  pursuance  of  his  duty, 
never  yielding  to  it  with  love,  but  unswervingly 
stanch.  He  was  never  cruel  to  his  horse ;  he  seldom 
whipped  him,  but  he  never  petted  him;  he  simply 
mastered  him,  and  after  a  while  the  fiery  animal 
began  to  go  the  doctor's  gait,  and  not  his  own. 

When  the  doctor  was  sent  for  in  a  hurry,  to 
an  emergency  case,  the  horse  stretched  his  legs  at 
a  gallop,  no  matter  how  little  inclined  he  felt  for 
it,  on  a  burning  day  of  summer,  perhaps.  When 
there  was  no  haste,  and  the  doctor  disposed  to 
take  his  time,  the  horse  went  at  a  gentle  amble, 
even  though  the  frosts  of  the  winter  morning  were 


THE  DOCTOR'S  HORSE  213 

firing  his  blood,  and  every  one  of  his  iron  nerves 
and  muscles  were  strained  with  that  awful  strain  of 
repressed  motion.  Even  on  those  mornings  the 
horse  would  stand  at  the  door  of  the  patient  who 
was  ill  with  old-fashioned  consumption  or  chronic 
liver-disease,  his  four  legs  planted  widely,  his  head 
and  neck  describing  a  long  downward  curve,  so 
expressive  of  submission  and  dejection  that  it  might 
have  served  as  a  hieroglyphic  for  them,  and  no 
more  thought  of  letting  those  bounding  impulses 
of  his  have  their  way  than  if  the  doctor's  will  had 
verily  bound  his  every  foot  to  the  ground  with  un- 
breakable chains  of  servitude.  He  had  become  the 
doctor's  horse.  He  was  the  will  of  the  doctor, 
embodied  in  a  perfect  compliance  of  action  and 
motion.  People  remarked  how  the  horse  had 
sobered  down,  what  a  splendid  animal  he  was  for 
the  doctor,  and  they  had  thought  that  he  would 
never  be  able  to  keep  him  and  employ  him  in  his 
profession. 

Now  and  then  the  horse  used  to  look  around 
at  the  empty  buggy  as  he  stood  at  the  gate  of  a 
patient's  house,  to  see  if  the  doctor  were  there, 
but  the  will  which  held  the  reins,  being  still  evi- 
dent to  his  consciousness  even  when  its  owner  was 
absent,  kept  him  in  his  place.  He  would  have  no 
thought  of  taking  advantage  of  his  freedom;  he 
would  turn  his  head,  and  droop  it  in  that  curve  of 
utter  submission,  shift  his  weight  slightly  to  an- 
other foot,  make  a  sound  which  was  like  a  human 
sigh  of  patience,  and  wait  again.  When  the  doc- 
tor, carrying  his  little  medicine-chest,  came  forth, 
he  would  sometimes  look  at  him,  sometimes  not; 
but  he  would  set  every  muscle  into  an  attitude  of 
readiness  for  progress  at  the  feel  of  the  taut  lines 
and  the  sound  of  the  masterly  human  voice  behind 
him. 

Then  he  would  proceed  to  the'  house  of  the 
next  patient,    and    the    story    would    be    repeated. 


214  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE   HOUR 

The  horse  seemed  to  live  his  life  in  a  perfect 
monotony  of  identical  chapters.  His  waiting  was 
scarcely  cheered  or  stimulated  by  the  vision  and 
anticipation  of  his  stall  and  his  supper,  so  unvary- 
ing was  it.  The  same  stall,  the  same  measure  of 
oats,  the  same  allotment  of  hay.  He  was  never 
put  out  to  pasture,  for  the  doctor  was  a  poor  man, 
and  unable  to  buy  another  horse  and  to  spare  him. 
All  the  variation  which  came  to  his  experience  was 
the  uncertainty  as  to  the  night  calls.  Sometimes 
he  would  feel  a  slight  revival  of  spirit  and  rebel- 
lion when  led  forth  on  a  bitter  winter  night  from 
his  stolidity  of  repose,  broken  only  by  the  shifting 
of  his  weight  for  bodily  comfort,  never  by  any 
perturbation  of  his  inner  life.  The  horse  had  no 
disturbing  memories,  and  no  anticipations,  but  he 
was  still  somewhat  sensitive  to  surprises.  When 
the  flare  of  the  lantern  came  athwart  his  stall  and 
he  felt  the  doctor's  hand  at  his  halter  in  the  deep 
silence  of  a  midnight,  he  would  sometimes  feel 
himself  as  a  separate  consciousness  from  the  doc- 
tor, and  experience  the  individualizing  of  contrary 
desires. 

Now  and  then  he  pulled  back,  planting  his  four 
feet  firmly,  but  he  always  yielded  in  a  second  be- 
fore the  masterly  will  of  the  man.  Sometimes  he 
started  with  a  vicious  emphasis,  but  it  was  never 
more  than  momentary.  In  the  end  he  fell  back 
into  his  lost  state  of  utter  submission.  The  horse 
was  not  unhappy.  He  was  well  cared  for.  His 
work,  though  considerable,  was  not  beyond  his 
strength.  He  had  lost  something  undoubtedly  in 
this  complete  surrender  of  his  own  will,  but  a  loss 
of  which  one  is  unconscious  tends  only  to  the  deg- 
radation of  an   animal,  not  to  his  misery. 

The  doctor  often  remarked  with  pride  that  his 
horse  was  a  well-broken'  animal,  somewhat  stupid, 
but  faithful.  All  the  timid  women  folk  in  the  vil- 
lage looked  upon  him  with  favor;  the  doctor's  wife, 


THE   DOCTOR'S   HORSE 


2IS 


who  was  nervous,  loved  to  drive  with  her  husband 
behind  this  docile  horse,  and  was  not  afraid  even 
to  sit,  while  the  doctor  was  visiting  his  patients, 
with  the  reins  over  the  animal's  back.  The  horse 
had  become  to  her  a  piece  of  mechanism  absolutely 
under  the  control  of  her  husband,  and  he  was  in 
truth  little  more.  Still,  a  furnace  is  a  furnace, 
even  when  the  fire  runs  low,  and  there  is  always 
the  possibility  of  a  blaze. 

The  doctor  had  owned  the  horse  several  years, 
though  he  was  still  young  when  the  young  woman 
came  to  live  in  the  family.  She  was  the  doctor's 
niece,  a  fragile  thing,  so  exposed  as  to  her  net- 
work of  supersensitive  nerves  to  all  the  winds  of 
life  that  she  was  always  in  a  quiver  of  reciproca- 
tion or  repulsion.  She  feared  everything  unknown, 
and  all  strength.  She  was  innately  suspicious  of 
the  latter.  She  knew  its  power  to  work  her  harm, 
and  believed  in  its  desire  to  do  so.  Especially  was 
she  afraid  of  that  rampant  and  uncertain  strength 
of  a  horse.  Never  did  she  ride  behind  one  but  she 
watched  his  every  motion;  she  herself  shied  in 
spirit  at  every  wayside  stone.  She  watched  for 
him  to  do  his  worst.  She  had  no  faith  when  she 
was  told  by  her  uncle  that  this  horse  was  so  steady 
that  she  herself  could  drive  him.  She  had  been 
told  that  so  many  times,  and  her  confidence  had 
been  betrayed.  But  the  doctor,  since  she  was  like 
a  pale  weed  grown  in  the  shade,  with  no  stimulus 
of  life  except  that  given  at  its  birth,  prescribed 
fresh  air  and,  to  her  consternation,  daily  drives 
with  him.  Day  after  day  she  went.  She  dared  not 
refuse,  for  she  was  as  compliant  in  her  way  to  a 
stronger  will  as  the  horse.  But  she  went  in  an 
agony  of  terror,  of  which  the  doctor  had  no  con- 
ception. She  sat  in  the  buggy  all  alone  while  the 
doctor  visited  his  patients,  and  she  watched  every 
motion  of  the  horse.  If  he  turned  to  look  at  her, 
her  heart  stood  still. 


2l6  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

And  at  last  it  came  to  pass  that  the  horse  be- 
gan in  a  curious  fashion  to  regain  something  of 
his  lost  spirit,  and  met  her  fear  of  him,  and  became 
that  which  she  dreaded.  One  day  as  he  stood  be- 
fore a  gate  in  late  autumn,  with  a  burning  gold  of 
maple  branches  over  his  head  and  the  wine  of  the 
frost  in  his  nostrils,  and  this  timorous  thing  seated 
behind  him,  anticipating  that  which  he  could  but 
had  forgotten  that  he  could  do,  the  knowledge  and 
the  memory  of  it  awoke  in  him.  There  was  a  stiff 
northwester  blowing.  The  girl  was  huddled  in 
shawls  and  robes;  her  little  pale  face  looked  forth 
from  the  midst  with  wide  eyes,  with  a  prospectus 
of  infinite  danger  from  all  life  in  them;  her  little 
thin  hands  clutched  the  reins  with  that  conscious- 
ness of  helplessness  and  conviction  of  the  horse's 
power  of  mischief  which  is  sometimes  like  an 
electric  current  firing  the  blood  of  a  beast. 

Suddenly  a  piece  of  paper  blew  under  the  horse's 
nose.  He  had  been  unmoved  by  fire-crackers  be- 
fore, but  to-day,  with  that  current  of  terror  behind 
him  firing  his  blood,  that  paper  put  him  in  a  sud- 
den fury  of  panic,  of  self-assertion,  of  rage,  of  all 
three  combined.  He  snorted;  the  girl  screamed 
wildly.  He  started;  the  girl  gave  the  reins  a 
frantic  pull.  He  stopped.  Then  the  paper  blew 
under  his  nose  again,  and  he  started  again.  The 
girl  fairly  gasped  with  terror ;  she  pulled  the  reins, 
and  the  terror  in  her  hands  was  like  a  whip  of 
stimulus  to  the  evil  freedom  of  the  horse.  She 
screamed,  and  the  sound  of  that  scream  was  the 
climax.  The  horse  knew  all  at  once  what  he  was 
—  not  the  doctor,  but  a  horse,  with  a  great 
power  of  blood  and  muscle  which  made  him  not 
only  his  own  master,  but  the  master  of  all  weaker 
things.  He  gave  a  great  plunge  that  was  rapture, 
the  assertion  of  freedom,  freedom  itself,  and  was 
off.  The  faint  screams  of  the  frightened  creature 
behind  him  stimulated  him  to  madder  progress.    At 


THE  DOCTOR'S  HORSE  217 

last  he  knew,  by  her  terrified  recognition  of  it,  his 
own  sovereignty  of  liberty. 

He  thundered  along  the  road;  he  had  no  more 
thought  of  his  pitiful  incumbrance  of  servitude,  the 
buggy,  than  a  free  soul  of  its  mortal  coil.  The 
country  road  was  cleared  before  him;  plodding 
teams  were  pulled  frantically  to  the  side;  women 
scuttled  into  door-yards;  pale  faces  peered  after 
him  from  windows.  Now  and  then  an  adventurous 
man  rushed  into  his  path  with  wild  halloos  and  a 
mad  swinging  of  arms,  then  fled  precipitately  be- 
fore his  resistless  might  of  advance.  At  first  the 
horse  had  heard  the  doctor's  shouts  behind  him, 
and  had  laughed  within  himself,  then  he  left  them 
far  behind.  He  leaped,  he  plunged,  his  iron-shod 
heels  touched  the  dash-board  of  the  buggy.  He 
heard  splintering  wood.  He  gave  another  lunging 
plunge.  Then  he  swerved,  and  leaped  a  wall. 
Finally  he  had  cleared  himself  of  everything  except 
a  remnant  of  his  harness.  The  buggy  was  a  wreck, 
strewn  piecemeal  over  a  meadow.  The  girl  was 
lying  unhurt,  but  as  still  as  if  she  were  dead;  but 
the  horse  which  her  fear  had  fired  to  new  life  was 
away  in  a  mad  gallop  over  the  autumn  fields,  and 
his  youth  had  returned.  He  was  again  himself  — 
what  he  had  been  when  he  first  awoke  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  existence  and  the  joy  of  bounding 
motion  in  his  mighty  nerves  and  muscles.  He  was 
no^longer  the  doctor's  horse,  but  his  own. 

The  doctor  had  to  sell  him.  After  that  his 
reputation  was  gone,  and  indeed  he  was  never 
safe.  He  ran  with  the  doctor.  He  would  not 
stand  a  moment  unless  tied,  and  then  pawed  and 
pulled  madly  at  the  halter,  and  rent  the  air  with 
impatient  whinnies.  So  the  doctor  sold  him,  and 
made  a  good  bargain.  The  horse  was  formed  for 
speed,  and  his  lapse  from  virtue  had  increased  his 
financial  value.  The  man  who  bought  him  had  a 
good  eye  for  horseflesh,  and  had    no  wish  to  stand 


2l8  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

at  doors  on  his  road  to  success,  but  to  take  a  bee- 
line  for  the  winning-post.  The  horse  was  well 
cared  for,  but  for  the  first  time  he  felt  the  lash 
and  heard  curses;  however,  they  only  served  to 
stimulate  to  a  fiercer  glow  the  fire  which  had  awak- 
ened within  him.  He  was  never  his  new  master's 
horse  as  he  had  been  the  doctor's.  He  gained  the 
reputation  of  speed,  but  also  of  vicious  nervous- 
ness. He  was  put  on  the  race-course.  He  made  a 
record  at  the  county  fair.  Once  he  killed  his  jockey. 
He  used  to  speed  along  the  road  drawing  a  man 
crouched  in  a  tilting  gig.  Few  other  horses  could 
pass  him.     Then  he  began  to  grow  old. 

At  last  when  the  horse  was  old  he  came  into 
his  first  master's  hands  again.  The  doctor  had 
grown  old,  older  than  the  horse,  and  he  did  not 
know  him  at  first,  though  he  did  say  to  his  old 
wife  that  he  looked  something  like  that  horse  which 
he  had  owned  which  ran  away  and  nearly  killed 
his  niece.  After  he  said  that,  nothing  could  induce 
the  doctor's  wife  to  ride  behind  him;  but  the  doc- 
tor, even  in  his  feeble  old  age,  had  no  fear,  and  the 
sidelong  fire  in  the  old  horse's  eye,  and  the  proud 
cant  of  his  neck,  and  haughty  resentment  at  un- 
familiar sights  on  the  road,  pleased  him.  He  felt 
a  confidence  in  his  ability  to  tame  this  untamed 
thing,  and  the  old  man  seemed  to  grow  younger 
after  he  had  bought  the  horse.  He  had  given  up 
his  practice  after  a  severe  illness,  and  a  young  man 
had  taken  it,  but  he  began  to  have  dreams  of  work 
again.  But  he  never  knew  that  he  had  bought  his 
old  horse  until  after  he  had  owned  him  some  weeks. 
He  was  driving  him  along  the  country  road  one 
day  in  October  when  the  oaks  were  a  ruddy  blaze, 
and  the  sumacs  like  torches  along  the  walls,  and 
the  air  like  wine  with  the  smell  of  grapes  and  ap- 
ples. Then  suddenly,  while  the  doctor  was  sitting 
in  the  buggy  with  loose  reins,  speeding  along  the 
familiar  road,  the  horse   stopped.     And  he   stopped 


THE  DOCTOR'S  HORSE  219 

before  the  house  where  had  used  to  dwell  the  man 
afflicted  with  old-fashioned  consumption,  and  the 
window  which  had  once  framed  his  haggard,  coughing 
visage  reflected  the  western  sunlight  like  a  blank  page 
of  gold.  There  the  horse  stood,  his  head  and  long 
neck  bent  in  the  old  curve.  He  was  ready  to 
wait  until  the  consumptive  arose  from  his  grave  in 
the  church-yard,  if  so  ordered.  The  doctor  stared 
at  him.  Then  he  got  out  and  went  to  the  animal's 
head,  and  man  and  horse  recognized  each  other. 
The  light  of  youth  was  again  in  the  man's  eyes  as 
he  looked  at  his  own  spiritual  handiwork.  He  was 
once  more  the  master,  in  the  presence  of  that 
which  he  had  mastered.  But  the  horse  was  ex- 
pressed in  body  and  spirit  only  by  the  lines  of  utter 
yielding  and  patience  and  submission.  He  was 
again  the  doctor's  horse. 

—  Mary  E.    Wilkins. 


MADAME  LA  DOCTEUR 


/  tkink  you'll  force  me  to  become  your  patient, 

—  Shackerley  Marmion,  "The  Antiquary,**  iii. 


THE    FAIR    PHYSIOLOGIST   AND    THE 
BACHELOR    OF    MEDICINE 

A  Lay  of  the  Nineteenth  Century 

jjjSH  tell  me,  gentle  maid,*  he  cries, 

«  Whence  flows  that  falling  tear, 
Why  all-suffused  those  glist'ning  eyes  ? 
The  cause  I  fain  would  hear.* 
"The  cause,*  she  says,  with  downcast  eye, 

"Unless  my  mem'ry  fail,  is 
Intensified  activity 

In  the  Glandula  Lachrymalis?'* 

*But  oh,  methinks  that  from  your  breast 

There  heaves  a  gentle  sigh, 
Refusing,  too,  to  be  repressed; 

Sweet  maiden,  tell  me  why?* 
«I  think,*  she  says,  "a  sigh  is  due 

To  deepened  Inspiration, 
And  this,  again,  is  owing  to 

Some  Reflex  Excitation?^ 

«But,  mantling  on  your  cheek,  I  see 

The  lovely  damask  rose, 
Declare,  oh,  dearest  one,  to  me 

Whence  this  rich  luster  flows  ?  * 
*  Blushing  is  caused,*  the  maid  replies, 

*■*■  As  Huxley  •well  observes, 
By  much-dilated  arteries 

And   Vaso-motor  Nerves?^ 

(220) 


MADAME  LA  DOCTEUR  221 

*  But  tell  me  farther,  maiden  dear, 

Of  all  these  signs  the  reason. 
Do  not  a  blush,  a  sigh,  a  tear 
Point  to  some  central  lesion?''* 

*  Their  cause  ^'*  (she  faintly  makes  reply) 

"As  yet  escapes  detection, 
Unless-perchance  —  they  signify 
Some  —  cardiac  affection?'* 

«Ah,  maid,  your  diagnosis  true 

To  sure  proof  is  subjected. 
Since,  by  contagion  caught  from  you, 

My  heart,  too,  is  infected. 
And  now,  to  cure  us  both,  I  trow, 

One  med'cine  and  no  more  is. 
Oh,  take  the  sweet  prescription  now: 

Sume  Aurantii  Flares, "  * 

— /.  Harper  Benson. 


MADAME    LA    DOCTEUR 

'^Ti^is  she :  I  know  her  cheerful,  vibrant  voice, 

li         Her  swift,  light  step  approaching: 
My  languid  senses,  wakening,  all  rejoice. 

Nor  does  the  heart  need  coaching. 
But  buoyantly  betrays  new  strength,  the  while 
Awaiting  happily  the  doctor's  smile. 

I  gaze  into  the  kindly  questioning  eyes, 

Her  warm,  true  heart  revealing. 
When  suddenly,  the  look  grows  deep  and  wise, 

Her  thought  from  me  concealing; 
For  Galen's  science  now  my  love  allures, 
Suggesting,  possibly,  some  wondrous  cures. 

Still  serious  as  a  judge,  she  feels  my  pulse. 

New  medicine  prescribing. 
While  I  would  scientific  rules  convulse, 

My  lessened  ills  ascribing 
Not  to  the  science  learned  at  Galen's  throne, 
But  to  her  magic  influence  alone. 

—  E.  L.  Jacinto. 
♦Take  orange  Flowers. 


2  22  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


LOVE,  M.  D. 

^H,  SHE  comes  in  silk  and  satin, 
She  is  versed  in  roots  of  Latin, 
As  well  as    every  root  that   grows   below   the    mother 
earth ; 
She  reads  Sanskrit,  she  reads  Coptic, 
She's  the  apple  of  my  optic; 
She  has  a  long  list   of   degrees,    and  Boston   saw  her 
birth. 

Yet  it  sets  my  blood  ashiver 

When  she  asks  about  my  liver, 
And  I  stutter  and  am  speechless  when  my  tongue  she 
wants  to  see; 

For  I'm  fearful  to  expose  it. 

In  negligee  —  she  knows  it, 
When  her  lovely  eyes  with  tender  light  are  riveted  on 


^i        With  my  pulses  at  a  hundred, 

'Tis  not  strange  that  she  has  blundered. 

And  doctored  me  for  fevers  when  I  didn't  have  a  sign ; 
'Tis  her  presence  that  is  heating, 
And  which  sets  my  heart  a  beating; 

For  I'm  only  a  poor  mortal  man,  and  she  is  not  divine. 

Still  it's  pleasant  to  be  ailing, 

Just  to  have  an  angel  sailing 
Into  your  humble  room  and  fill  it  full  of  life  and  light; 

But  as  for  a  diagnosis, 

Why  what  anybody  knows  is 
Impossible  at  such  a  time  to  formulate  aright. 

But  I'll  tell  you,  fair  physician, 
All  the  fault  of  my  condition; 
I  am  dying  of  the  heart    disease,  and   all   for   love   of 
you; 
And  'tis  in  your  power  to  cure  it; 
If  you  don't  I'm  very  sure  it 
Will  grow  worse  until   you   tell  me  that   your  love  is 
fond  and  true. 


MADAME   LA  DOCTEUR  423 


BELINDA,    M.  D. 

lELiNDA  is  fifteen, 

Hath  hair  of  golden  sheen. 

And  her  eyes 
Are  the  regulation  blue, 
Such  as  we're  accustomed  to 
Idolize. 


She  hath  a  winning  grace, 
Complement  of  such  a  face 

Of  fifteen; 
And  this  dainty  little  body 
Is  determined  that  she'll  study 

Medicine. 

Was  ever  thought  so  crazy 
Entertained  by  such  a  daisy 

Of  the  field  ? 
Surely  not;  but  still  the  notion 
Of  professional  devotion 

Will  not  yield. 

On  the  beach  at  Narragansett 
She  doth  scan  the  London  Lancet, 

And  I  ween 
Through  her  reading  comprehensive 
She  is  *  up  '*  on  that  expensive 

Cocaine. 


She  doth  cultivate  affection 
For  Lequard  and  vivisection; 

Though  as  yet 
She  doth  draw  her  skirt  around  her 
When  she  passeth  by  a  flounder 

In  a  net. 


2  24  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

And  I  wish  you  could  behold  her 
In  the  lee  of  some  big  boulder 

At  her  ease, 
In  profound  preoccupation, 
Getting  points  on  circulation, 

If  you  please. 

Ah,  this  winsome  little  gold-head! 
When  the  winged  years  have  folded 

On  the  scene 
Of  this  fancy,  will  the  thronging 
Of  her  lovers  set  her  longing 

For  fifteen  ? 

If,  at  length    she  must  confess 
To  a  cardiac  distress 

Which  an  elf 
With  a  bended  bow  hath  brought  her. 
Can  she  then,  tho'  Galen  taught  her, 

Cure  herself? 

—  Mark  Mallow. 


THE    MICROBE 


Bacteriology  makes  it  plain   that  the  Ark  carried  quite 
a  few  stowaways. 


A    TRAGEDY 

GAY  Bacillus,  to  gain  him  glory. 
Once  gave  a  ball  in  a  laboratory. 
The  fete  took  place  on  a  cover  glass. 
Where  vulgar  germs  could  not  harass. 

None  but  the  cultured  were  invited 

(For  microbe  cliques  are  well  united), 

And  tightly  closed  the  ball-room  doors. 

To  all  the  germs  containing  spores. 

The  Staphylococci  first  arrived  — 

To  stand  in  groups  they  all  contrived  — 

The  Streptococci  took  great  pains 

To  seat  themselves  in  graceful  chains. 

While,  somewhat  late,  and  two  by  two, 

The  Diplococci  came  in  view. 

The  Pneumacocci,  stern  and  haughty, 

Declared  the  Genecocci  naughty. 

And  would  not  care  to  stay  at  all 

If  they  were  present  at  the   ball. 

The  ball  began,  the  mirth  ran  high. 

With  not  one  thought  of  danger  nigh. 

Each  germ  enjoyed  himself  that  night. 

With  never  fear  of  the  Phagocyte. 

'Twas  getting  late  (and  some  were  ^Uoaded*) 

When  a  jar  of  formalin  exploded, 

And  drenched  the  happy  dancing  mass 

Who  swarmed  the  fatal  cover  glass. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

Not  one  survived,  but  perished  all 

At  this  Bacteriologic  ball. 

— J.  Lee  Hagadorn. 
D.L.H.— 15  (325) 


226  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


GEORGIE'S    PAW    FINDS    OUT   HOW    TO 
FOOL    GERMS 

iTTLE  albert  cot  the  meezuls  in  Sunday 
school  becoz  me  and  Him  wanted  to 
Get  invited  to  the  Christmus  tree  doings, 
So  we  Commenct  going  a  fue  weeks  be- 
fore it  Come  off.  I  wouldn't  of  cared 
so  mutch  only  they  Barred  me  Out  be- 
coz they  thot  I  mite  Carry  some  Germs 
along  in  my  close  and  pass  them  around 
amung  the  ones  that  Hadn't  enny  Germs  of  their 
own,  so  the  three  Sundays  I  went  all  Got  waisted. 
When  the  dockter  came  to  See  Little  albert  he 
sed  maw  must  take  the  Baby  in  a  room  by  Herself 
and  not  Let  ennybuddy  go  in  to  see  Her  without 
Changing  their  coats  first  and  shaking  the  Germs 
out  of  their  hair. 

Every  time  paw  would  go  in  the  room  to  See  Little 
albert  and  then  started  across  the  Hall  to  see  the 
baby  maw  would  tell  him  he  must  put  on  anuther 
coat  soase  not  to  take  Enny  Germs  in.  So  paw 
kep  an  extry  Coat  hung  on  the  door  nob  and  you 
could  see  Him  taking  off  one  or  putting  On  anuther 
neerly  Every  time  a  Buddy  looked  for  about  a 
week  or  So,  and  then  one  Day  he  told  maw  That 
he  didn't  Believe  they  was  a  Germ  on  erth  with 
Enny  spunk  that  would  give  up  just  becoz  it  had 
to  Stick  to  the  Saim  coat  all  the  Time  and  he 
wuzzen't  going  to  be  a  Fool  Enny  longer. 

"  Don't  you  think  two  or  Three  germs  could 
hop  from  one  coat  to  anuther  while  I  was  Chang- 
ing them  ?  **  he  told  maw.  <^  I  don't  s'pose  germs 
get  rite  Down  and  reason  things  out  very  often, 
but  when  they  go  Looking  for  bizness  I  don't 
Bleeve  they  just  sit  around  waiting  for  Sumthing 
to  Turn  up.* 


THE   MICROBE  aa7 

Maw  was  starting  to  tell  him  what  she  thot 
about  it,  But  the  doctor  Came  then  and  paw  got 
to  asting  Him  questions  about  the  habbuts  of  Germs. 

**  Do  you  think  they  would  be  Danger  of  me 
Carrying  germs  to  the  Baby  if  I  didn't  change  my 
coat  and  brush  my  Whiskers  Every  time  ?  *  paw 
ast  him. 

*  Yes,  **  the  doctor  sed ;  **  I  always  take  off  my 
overcoat  downstairs  in  the  Hall,  you  notus,  before 
I  come  where  the  Children  are.  That's  to  Leave 
the  germs  I  got  at  the  last  place  I  visited  down 
there,  and  so  when  I  get  thru  here  I  put  my  over- 
coat on  again,  and  that  shuts  your  kind  of  germs 
up  inside,  so  they  Can't  get  out  when  I  go  to  the 
next  place  on  the  List.** 

"That's  a  great  skeem,"  paw  sed.  *  What  do 
you  think  would  happen  if  some  of  the  germs  on 
your  Overcoat  and  the  ones  you  keep  shut  up  in- 
side clum  thru  the  fence  some  day  and  got  all  mixt 
up  ?» 

The  doctor  sed  it  wuzzen't  enny  joak  and  paw 
told  him  he  new  it. 

*  How  does  it  Come  they  don't  get  in  your  Eye 
brows  ?  "  paw  ast  him. 

"Oh,*  the  doctor  sed,  "  I  don't  let  my  Eyebrows 
tutch  Ennything  in  the  room.** 

"  Don't  the  germs  ever  stick  to  your  Collar  ?  '* 
paw  sed.  "  Your  don't  change  that  Every  time  you 
go  from  one  House  to  anuther,  do  you  ?  ** 

"  No,  **  the  doctor  anserd.  "  They  only  stick  to 
woolen  things." 

"  Oh,  **  says  paw ;  "  must  it  always  be  a  yard  wide, 
too  ?  Do  germs  ever  get  on  peeple  that  are  red 
Heded  or  Cross  eyed  or  haven't  a  Good  fambly 
Back  of  them  ?  How  do  they  act  when  they  see  a 
Bow  legged  man  or  a  Girl  that  duzzen't  sit  pidgun 
toed  ?  I  s'pose  if  a  Germ  'would  get  into  a  purson 
that  wore  the  rong  kind  of  Close  by  axidunt  some 
day  it  would  never  Hold    up   its  hed   and  Dare  to 


228  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

look  the  other  germs  in  the  fais  again,  would  it  ? 
It  must  be  mitey  hard  Being  a  germ  that  wants  to 
keep  a  good  Reputashen,  with  so  menny  Chances 
to  do  the  rong  Thing.  How  do  you  keep  from 
Taking  the  Germs  to  your  own  Fambly,  when  you 
are  around  amung  them  all  Day  and  go  Home 
with  about  Leven  different  kinds  on  you  at  nite  ?  *> 
"  I  have  a  Clozet  down  stairs  in  my  offus,  **  the 
Doctor  sed,  ^^  and  I  always  take  off  my  close  and 
Hang  them  in  There  before  I  go  where  enny  of 
my  fambly  is.* 

*  And  when  you  Get  your  close  took  off  and 
hung  up  in  the  Clozet  down  stairs,**  paw  told  Him, 
"  do  you  Go  around  without  Enny  on  till  you  Find 
some  more  ?  * 

^^  Of  corse  not,*  the  doctor  anserd.  **  I  keep 
anuther  suit  in  the  same  Clozet  to  put  on  when  I 
take  the  Others  off.** 

"  And  do  the  Germs  just  sit  around  and  watch 
you  while  you  Change  and  Think  it  would  be  un- 
professhunal  if  they  Hopped  from  one  Suit  to  the 
Other  or  stuck  around  in  the  Clozet  and  got  onto 
your  Home  suit  when  they  Thot  you  wuzzent 
looken'  ?  ** 

The  doctor  sed  he  hadn't  time  to  stay  and  Talk 
about  it  Enny  more,  so  He  hurried  on  to  the  Next 
case,  and  after  he  was  gone  paw  sed  to  maw: 

«  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  about  this  Germ  biz- 
ness.  ** 

«  What's  that  ?  **  maw  ast. 

*  Instead  of  trying  to  fool  the  Germs  and  make 
them  Lose  confadunce  in  us,  we  ot  to  just  meat 
them  Half  way  and  Try  to  teatch  them  to  Listen 
to  reezun.** 

Maw  goes  around  looking  kind  of  sad  becoz  she 
thinks  paw  is  a  Little  off  on  the  Germ  theory,  but 
the  baby  hazzen't  come  down  yet. 

—  Georgie. 


THE  MICROBE  229 


HER   COURTSHIP 

MAN  of  modern  science  wooed 
A  maiden  of  accepting  mood, 
Who,  dreading  lest  contagion  might 
Do  mischief  to  her  chosen  Wight, 
With  sol.  bichloride  washed  her  hair 
And  sponged  her  limbs  and  body  fair. 

She  rinsed  her  mouth  with  Listerine, 
And  held,  her  snow-white  teeth  between, 
A  pad  of  antiseptic  gauze. 
Covering  her  nose,  as  well  as  jaws. 
Which  formed  a  sort  of  respirator 
Between  them  and  her  osculator. 

But  this  reminds:  I  should  have  told 

That  these  were  things  he'd  taught  of  old. 

With  others  which  I  may  not  tell,  in 

Regard  to  spots  that  germs  might  dwell  in. 

She  was  a  wise  professor's  daughter 

And  practised  all  which  had  been  taught  her. 

So  this  good  medicine  man,  with  pride 

Clasping  his  antiseptic  bride, 

In  disinfected  murmur  low 

Asked  «Why  she  loved  her  doctor  so?» 

And  softly  nestling  down,  she  sighed, 

« You're  such  a  dear  old  germicide." 


IN    BOSTON 

«When  I  grow  up,»  said  the  first  boy,  « I  hope 
to  be  a  physician.  Is  it  not  noble  to  spend  one's 
life  in  curing  the  ills  to  which  flesh  is  heir  ?  '^ 

«True,»  said  his  kind-hearted  little  companion; 
«but  it  does  seem  cruel  to  kill  the  poor  little  mi- 
crobes. " 


230  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


MICROBIAN    HUMOR 

First  Microbe  —  "  Have  you  ever  gone  up  against 
any  of  these  microbe  killers  the  doctors  are  talking 
about  ? » 

Second  Microbe  —  <*  Lots  of  them.  ** 
First  Microbe — "Are  n't  you  afraid?* 
Second  Microbe  —  "Afraid,    nothing!     Why,    I'm 
a  microbe-killer  killer,   I  am ! " 


CHRISTIAN  SCIENCE 


I  take  not  on  me  here  as  a  physician. 

—  Shakespeare,  « II  Henry  IV,»  iv.  i. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    SCIENTIST   AND 
THE    PATIENT 

Patient—'-''  I  have  come  to  consult  you  in  regard 
to  my  state  of  health.  I  am  afflicted  with  severe 
headache  upon  rising. » 

Christian  Scientist— ''Oh,  no.  You  only  ihtnk 
you  are  subject  to  headache. » 

p «Yes,  headache  and  sometimes  dizziness.  >* 

C,  5._«You  simply  think  so,  my  friend. » 
P   (indignantly)— "Not  only  dizziness,  but  fre- 
quently nausea.'^ 

(7    s. «  Indeed  you  only  think  so!* 

/>_«Well,  as  no  relief  seems  to  be  ofEered,  I 
must  say  good  morning!  *^  ^^ 

Q    5 «  My  price,  sir,  is  two  dollars  a  visit.* 

p'_«Oh,  no.  You  only  think  it  is  your  price. 
Good  morning.*' 

THE    CASE    ALTERED 

«  Didn't  I  see  a  physician's  carriage  at  Gidding's 
door  this  morning?"  asked  Cumso. 

«  Quite  likely, »  replied  Cawker.    "  Gidding  is  ill.' 

«  That's  odd.  When  his  wife  was  sick,  a  month 
ago.  he  refused  to  call  a  doctor,  but  insisted  on 
her  taking  the  mind  cure.» 

«  That  is  true,  but  I  told  you  that  it  was  Gid- 
ding himself  who  is  ill  this  time.» 

^  (23O 


232  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

MISTAKEN    FOR    A    DIVINE    HEALER 

Hiram  —  "I  thought  yew  wuzn't  a-goin'  tew 
get  yer  hair  cut  till  Bill  Bryan  wuz  elected  Presi- 
dent ?  » 

Jason  — "  So  did  I  !  But,  by  Gum  !  when  a 
henpecked -lookin'  feller  walked  up  tew  me  'bout 
an  hour  ago  an'  asked  me  tew  cure  him  uv  cold 
feet  by  the  layin'  on  uv  my  hands,  I  bolted  fer 
the  nearest  barber  shop !  * 


TOO    MUCH    WORK 

Hicks  —  *  He  says  Christian  Science  makes  him 
tired.     You  should  hear  him  swear  about  it.* 

Wicks — *The  idea!  Why  should  he  bother  so 
much  about  it?" 

Hicks  —  *<He  has  to.  He's  the  Coroner,  you 
know. " 


SOMETHING  OF  A  SCRAPPER  HIMSELF 

Conley — **  Now,  if  yez  wor  t'  call  in  a  Christian 
Scientist  he'd  make  yez  acknowlidge  in  liss  than 
tin  minutes  thot  yez  hod  no  rheumatism  at  all !  * 

Fagan  (sadly) — ^^  P'raps  he  could  —  in  th'  condi- 
tion Oi  am  now;  but,  begorra!  Oi'U  lay  odds  he 
could  n't  do  it  iv  Oi  wor  well!*' 


TWO    CURES 

"  Ah  !  Gadsby,  howdy  ?  I  want  to  tell  you  how 
Christian  Science  cured  me  of  the  grip." 

"  All  right,  old  man !  When  you  get  through  I 
want  to  tell  you  how  the  grip  cured  me  of  Chris- 
tian Science." 


CHRISTIAN  SCIENCE  233 


NOT  AN    ENTHUSIAST 

Faith  Doctor  —  «  Now,  my  dear  sir,  tell  me  just 
how  you  feel.** 

Impatient  patient  (who  has  stared  the  doctor  in 
the  eye   steadily   for   hours,  in  a  vain   endeavor  to 

forget  his  pain)  —  «  I  feel  like  a  d d  fool ;  what's 

the  bill  ? » 


AN    ATTRACTION 

Isaacs  —  <*  If  I  had   der  time  I  mighd   look  into 

dot  Chreestian  Zience.* 

Miss  Isaacs  (astounded)  —  «  Vot  for  ?  » 

Isaacs — "Veil,  dere  seems  to  be  some  moneysh 

in  it.» 


ANOTHER    COMBINATION 

*  Nothing  like  whiskey  and  quinine  for  a  cold.* 
"  I  don't  like  quinine.      I  think  I'll  try  whiskey 
and  Christian  Science.* 


NOT    THAT    BREED 

Mc  Swatters  —  «  A  healer,  eh  ?     Divine  ?  * 
Mc  Switters  —  «  No ;  ward.  * 


Mrs.  Hix — I  don't  take  any  stock  in  these  faith 
cures    brought   about   by  the    laying    on    of  hands. 

Mrs.  Z>?;r  — Well,  I  do;  I  cured  mj  little  boy  of 
the  cigarette  habit  that  way. 


THE  QUACK 

The  patient  must  minister  to  himself. 
Throw  physic  to  the  dogs. 

—  Shakespeare,  «  Macbeth,'*  v,  3. 


QUACKS   OF   THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY 


HE  quacks  of  the  present  day  are 
sufficiently  numerous,  and  meet 
with  enough  success  to  cause  as- 
tonishment to  every  thinking  per- 
son; but,  compared  with  their 
predecessors  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  they  pale  into  insignifi- 
cance. It  may  not  be  uninterest- 
ing to  the  reader  to  have  brought  before  him  a 
few  of  the  men  who  treated  upon  the  credulity  of 
our  forefathers  in  the  days  of  Anne  and  the  three 
Georges,  the  days  of  Addison,  Pope,  and  Johnson. 
When  we  consider  their  numbers,  their  ignorance, 
and  the  impudence  of  their  pretensions,  we  find  it 
almost  impossible  to  understand  the  success  they 
met  with,  and  the  way  they  were  spoken  of  and 
patronized  by  the  highest  in  the  land.  Cobblers, 
tinkers,  footmen,  and  tailors  (some  not  able  to  read 
their  own  advertisements),  assumed  the  title  of  doc- 
tor, and  pretended  to  be  able  to  cure  every  known 
disease.  They  advertised  particulars  of  their  wonder- 
ful cures,  and  by  the  use  of  scraps  of  Latin  or 
doggerel  rhymes,  or  by  claiming  to  be  "-  seventh 
son  of  a  seventh  son,  ^'  or  an  *-^  unborn  doctor,  *  se- 
cured the  patronage  of  the  lowest  orders.  They 
put  forward  the  most  extraordinary  assertions,  as 
inducements  for  the  public  to  confide  in  their  med- 
(234) 


THE  QUACK  235 

ical  ability.  One  asserted  that  "he  had  arrived  at 
the  knowledge  of  the  green  and  red  dragon,  and 
had  discovered  the  female  fern  seed;*^  another  stated 
that  "he  had  studied  thirty  years  by  candlelight 
for  the  good  of  his  countrymen;*  whilst  a  third,  by 
heading  his  bills  with  the  word 

**  TETRACHYMAGOGON,** 

ensured  their  being  read  by  crowds  of  people,  of 
whom  the  majority  when  sick  would  go  to  no  other 
but  this  learned  man.  The  poverty  and  ignorance 
of  the  lower  classes  may  explain  the  success  these 
quacks  met  with  amongst  them;  but  what  are  we 
to  think  when  we  find  them  patronized  by  the 
nobility,  and  even  called  in  to  the  aid  of  suffering 
royalty  ?  —  when  we  find  them  receiving  titles  from 
an  English  sovereign  and  being  honored  with  the 
thanks  of  the  House  of  Commons  ? 

The  strange  fact  that  these  quacks  found  so 
many  people  to  trust  in  them  is  well  considered  by 
Dr.  Pearce,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  in  No.  572  of  the 
Spectator :  "  The  desire  of  life  is  so  natural  and 
strong  a  passion  that  I  have  long  since  ceased  to 
wonder  at  the  great  encouragement  which  the 
practice  of  medicine  finds  among  us.  Those  who 
have  little  or  no  faith  in  the  abilities  of  a  quack 
will  apply  themselves  to  him,  either  because  he  is 
willing  to  sell  health  at  a  reasonable  profit,  or  be- 
cause the  patient,  like  a  drowning  man,  catches  at 
every  twig,  and  hopes  for  relief  from  the  most 
ignorant,  when  the  most  able  physicians  give  him 
none.  Though  impudence  and  many  words  are  as 
necessary  to  these  itinerary  Galens  as  a  laced  hat 
to  a  merry-andrew,  yet  they  would  turn  very  little 
to  the  advantage  of  the  owner  if  there  were  not 
some  inward  disposition  in  the  sick  man  to  favor 
the  pretensions  of  the  mountebank.  Love  of  life 
in  the  one  and  of  money  in  the  other  creates  a 
good  correspondence  between  them.* 


236  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

One  of  the  most  pertinacious  advertisers  in  the 
early  part  of  the  century  was  Sir  William  Read. 
Originally  a  tailor,  he  became  oculist  to  Queen 
Anne  and  afterwards  to  George  the  First.  From 
Queen  Anne  he  received  the  honor  of  knighthood. 
Though  so  ignorant  that  he  could  hardly  read,  yet, 
by  an  unusual  amount  of  impudence  and  by  the 
use  of  a.  few  scraps  of  Latin  in  his  advertisements, 
he  obtained  a  great  reputation  for  learning,  and 
such  an  amount  of  patronage  as  enabled  him  to 
ride  in  his  own  chariot.  When  travelling  in  the 
provinces  he  practised  (**  by  the  light  of  nature  *^) 
not  only  in  small  towns  and  villages,  where  the  ig- 
norance of  the  inhabitants  might  be  supposed  to 
favor  his  pretensions,  but  also  in  the  principal 
seats  of  learning.  In  one  of  his  advertisements  he 
calls  upon  the  vice-chancellor,  university,  and  city 
of  Oxford,  to  vouch  for  his  cures.  He  advertised 
in  the  Taller  that  he  had  been  **  thirty-five  years 
in  the  practice  of  couching  cataracts,  taking  off  all 
sorts  of  wens,  curing  wry  necks,  and  /lair  lips, 
without  blemish,  though  never  so  deformed.*  His 
wife  assisted  him,  and  after  his  death,  which  oc- 
curred at  Rochester,  on  the  24th  of  May  1715,  car- 
ried on  his  business. 

In  those  days,  as  at  present,  the  quacks  adver- 
tised testimonials  from  grateful  patients.  These  are 
referred  to  in  the  Spectator :  **  Upon  this  a  man 
of  wit  and  learning  told  us,  he  thought  it  would 
not  be  amiss  if  we  paid  the  Spectator  the  same 
compliment  that  is  often  made  in  our  publick  prints 
to  Sir  William  Read,  Dr.  Grant,  Mr.  Moore  the 
apothecary,  and  other  eminent  physicians,  where  it  is 
usual  for  the  patients  to  publish  the  cures  which 
have  been  made  upon  them,  and  the  several  dis- 
tempers under  which  they  labored." 

The  Dr.  Grant  here  referred  to  was  a  cele- 
brated advertising  quack.  Commencing  life  as  a 
tinker,    he   afterwards,    though  very   illiterate,    be- 


THE  QUACK  237 

came  a  Baptist  preacher  in  Southwark,  then  turn- 
ing quack,  he  eventually  became  oculist  to  Queen 
Anne.  Speaking  of  Read  and  Grant,  a  writer  in 
the  Grub  Street  Journal  says:  — 

«Her  Majesty,  sure,  was  in  a  surprise. 
Or  else  was  very  short-sighted, 
When  a  tinker  was  sworn  to  look  after  her  eyes 
And  the  mountebank  Read  was  knighted." 

Dr.  Grant  had  his  portrait  engraved  on  a  copper- 
plate, from  which  copies  were  printed  for  distribu- 
tion.    Of  this  portrait  the  same  writer  says:  — 

«A  tinker  first  his  scene  of  life  began; 
That  failing,  he  set  up  for  cunning  man; 
But  wanting  luck,  puts  on  a  new  disguise, 
And  now  pretends  that  he  can  mend  your  eyes. 
But  this  expect,  that  like  a  tinker  true. 
Where  he  repairs  one  eye  he  puts  out  two.* 

Mr.  Moore,  the  apothecary,  was  known  as  the 
« Worm  Doctor,  *^  because  of  a  celebrated  worm- 
powder  that  he  sold.  In  one  of  the  numbers 
of  the  Tatler  a  London  tradesman  advertises 
that  he  had  been  cured  of  rheumatism  by  Mr. 
Moore,  of  the  Pestle  and  Mortar,  Abchurch  Lane. 
Moore  and  his  worm-powders  will  be  handed  down 
to  posterity,  since  they  form  the  subject  of  one  of 
Pope's  poems,  of  which  one  distich  runs:  — 

«Vain  is  thy  art,  thy  powder  vain, 
Since  worms  shall  eat  e'en  thee.^* 

Early  in  the  century  flourished  Dr.  Tom  Saffold, 
v;ho  used  to  publish  his  bills  in  verse,  thus :  — 

« Here's  Saffold's  pills,  much  better   than  the  rest, 
Deservedly  have  gained  the  name  of  best; 
A  box  of  eighteen  pills  for  eighteenpence. 
Though  'tis  too  cheap  in  any  man's  own  sense.* 

Specimens  of  his  poetical  powers  were  also  placed 
on  his  doorpost.      Dr.  Case,  who    afterwards   lived 


238  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

in  the  same  house,  erased  the  verses  of  his  prede- 
cessor and  substituted  two  lines  of  his  own:  — 

«  Within  this  place 
Lives  Doctor  Case.'* 

He  is  said  to  have  gained  more  by  this  couplet  than 
Dry  den  did  by  all  his  works. 

The  following  elegy  appeared  on  the  death  of 
Dr.  Saffold:  — 

*  Lament,  ye  damsels  of  our  London  city, 
Poor  unprovided  girls,  though  fair  and  witty ; 
Who  masked  would  to  his  house  in  couples  come 
To  understand  your  matrimonial  doom; 
To  know  what  kind  of  man  you  were  to  marry, 
And  how  long  time,  poor  things,  you  were  to  tarry, 
Your  oracle  is  silent ;  none  can  tell 
On  whom  his  astrologic  mantle  fell; 
For  he  when  sick  refused  the  doctor's  aid, 
And  only  to  his  pills  devotion  paid. 
Yet  it  was  surely  a  most  sad  disaster 
The  saucy  pills  at  last  should  kill  their  master.* 

To  understand  some  allusions  in  the  above  the 
reader  must  be  reminded  that  nearly  all  these 
quacks  pretended  to  a  great  skill  in  astrology,  and 
joined  the  business  of  fortune-telling  with  that  of 
selling  drops  and  pills. 

The  sterner  sex  were  not,  however,  allowed  to 
monopolise  the  field  of  quackery.  One  of  the  best- 
known  characters  of  the  last  century  was  Mrs.  Mapp, 
the  Bone-setter,  who,  after  leading  a  wandering  life 
for  some  time,  settled  down  at  Epsom,  then  a  place 
of  fashionable  resort.  The  remarkable  strength 
with  which  she  was  endowed,  together  with  such 
knowledge  as  she  had  acquired  from  her  father 
(himself  a  bone-setter),  mainly  contributed  to  the 
success  which,  in  many  cases,  undoubtedly  attended 
her  operations.  She  journeyed  to  town  twice  a 
week  in  a  coach-and-four,  and,  at  the  Grecian  Cof- 
fee House,  operated  on  her  town  patients,  carrying 


THE  QUACK  239 

their  crutches  back  to  Epsom  as  trophies  of  her 
skill.  During  one  of  these  visits  she  was  called  in 
to  the  aid  of  Sir  Hans  Sloane's  niece,  and  the  suc- 
cess which  she  met  with  on  this  occasion  became 
the  talk  of  the  town.  A  comedy  called  *  The 
Husband's  Relief,  or  the  Female  Bone-setter  and 
the  Worm  Doctor,*  was  brought  out  at  the  theatre 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  Mrs.  Mapp  attended  the 
first  performance,  accompanied  by  Ward  and  Tay- 
lor, two  quacks,  who  will  be  noticed  presently.  A 
song  in  her  praise  was  sung,  of  which  one  verse 
runs : — 

«  You  doctors  of  London,  who  puzzle  your  pates 
To  ride  in  your  coaches  and  purchase  estates; 
Give  over,  for  shame,  for  your  pride  has  a  fall, 
And  the  Doctress  of   Epsom  has  outdone  you  all.* 

Many  remarkable  cures  effected  by  her  are 
noted  in  the  public  journals  of  the  day,  and  there 
is  no  doubt  that  she  was  in  the  receipt  of  a  very 
large  income.  The  following  extract  from  the  Grub 
Street  Journal,  of  the  19th  of  April,  1736,  will  give 
the  reader  a  sufficient  insight  into  her  brief  married 
life :  *^  We  hear  that  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Mapp,  the 
famous  bone-setter  at  Epsom,  ran  away  from  her 
last  week,  taking  with  him  upwards  of  a  hundred 
guineas,  and  such  other  portable  things  as  lay  next 
to  his  hand.  Several  letters  from  Epsom  mention 
that  the  footman,  whom  the  fair  bone-setter  married 
the  week  before,  had  taken  a  sudden  journey  from 
thence  with  what  money  his  wife  had  earned,  and 
that  her  concern  at  first  was  very  great,  but  as 
soon  as  the  surprise  was  over,  she  grew  gay,  and 
seems  to  think  the  money  well  disposed  of,  as  it 
was  like  to  rid  her  of  a  husband.*  At  this  time 
she  was  at  the  height  of  her  prosperity ;  in  Decem- 
ber of  the  next  year  she  died,  "at  her  lodgings 
near  Seven  Dials,  so  miserably  poor  that  the  parish 
was  obliged  to  bury  her.* 


240  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Dr.  Ward,  one  of  the  quacks  mentioned  as  ac- 
companying Mrs.  Mapp  to  the  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields 
Theatre,  was  the  son  of  a  drysalter  in  Thames 
Street.  He  became  a  footman,  and  it  is  said  that 
whilst  travelling  with  his  master  on  the  continent 
he  obtained  from  some  monks  those  receipts  by 
which  he  afterwards  made  his  «  Friar's  Balsam  *>  and 
other  nostrums.  He  began  to  practice  physic  about 
1733,  ^^^  for  some  time  combated  the  united  efforts 
of  wit,  learning,  argument,  and  ridicule.  The  Grub 
Street  Journal  attacked  him  in  a  well-written  article, 
showing  the  mischievous  effects  of  his  ^^  pill,  *  giving 
instances  of  fatal  results  from  its  use,  and  pointing 
out  its  probable  principal  ingredient.  He  replied, 
giving  copies  of  depositions  made  before  certain 
magistrates  to  show  that  these  fatalities  arose  from 
other  causes.  He  also  inserted  in  his  reply  several 
testimonials  to  his  wonderful  success.  The  contro- 
versy went  on  for  some  time,  no  doubt  much  to 
Ward's  profit.  One  of  his  detractors  finishes  an 
article  with  the  following  warning  to  the  public :  — 

•Before  you  take  his  drop  or  pill 
Take  leave  of  friends  and  make  your  will.* 

Praised  by  General  Churchill  and  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Reynolds,  he  was  called  in  to  prescribe  for 
George  the  Second.  The  king  recovering  in  spite 
of  his  attentions,  Ward  received  a  solemn  vote  of 
thanks  from  the  House  of  Commons,  and  obtained 
the  privilege  of  driving  his  carriage  through  St. 
James's  Park.  He  died  in  1761,  leaving  his  statue, 
by  Carlini,  to  the  Society  of  Arts. 

Dr.  Taylor,  or  the  Chevalier  Taylor,  as  he  called 
himself,  was  a  quack  oculist,  whose  impudence  was 
unparalleled,  as  his  memoirs  written  by  himself 
will  testify.  Dr.  Johnson,  in  a  conversation  with 
his  friend  Beauclerk,  talking  of  celebrated  and 
successful  irregular  practisers  in  physic,  said: 
*  Taylor  was  the  most  ignorant  man  I  ever  knew, 


THE  QUACK  24X 

but  sprightly ;  Ward  the  dullest.  Taylor  challenged 
me  once  to  talk  Latin  with  him.  I  quoted  some 
of  Horace,  which  he  took  to  be  part  of  my  own 
speech.  He  said  a  few  words  well  enough.  ^^ 
Beauclerk. — "I  remember,  sir,  you  said  that  Taylor 
was  an  instance  how  far  impudence  could  carry 
ignorance.*  It  was  said  of  Taylor  that  five  of  his 
coach-horses  were  blind  in  consequence  of  their 
master  having  exercised  his  skill  upon  them. 

About  this  time  there  practiced  in  Moorfields  a 
quack  who  advertised  himself  as  the  *^  Unborn 
Doctor.'*  A  writer  of  the  time  speaks  of  him  as 
the  "stuttering  Unborn  Doctor,*  and  relates  that  a 
gentleman  having  asked  him  to  explain  his  title, 
he  replied,  "  Why,  you  s-s-ee,  sir,  I  w-w-as  not 
b-born  a  d-d-doctor,  and  s-s-so  I  am  an  u-u-u- 
unbom  doctor.* 

We  may  mention  here  Dr.  Hancock,  who  recom- 
mended cold  water  and  stewed  prunes  as  a  universal 
panacea.  There  was  also  the  proprietor  of  the 
Anodyne  Necklace,  the  wearing  of  which  for  one 
night  would  enable  children  to  cut  their  teeth  with- 
oui  pain,  even  though  they  had  previously  been  on 
the  brink  of  the  grave.  These  necklaces  had  a  good 
sale  at  the  really  moderate  price,  considering  their 
effect,  of  five  shillings  each. 

We  must  not  pass  over  the  gentleman  who  thus 
introduces  himself  in  the  Evening  Post  of  August 
the  6th,  1717:  "This  is  to  give  notice  that  Dr. 
Benjamin  Thornhill,  sworn  servant  to  His  Majesty 
King  George,  seventh  son  of  the  seventh  son,  who 
has  kept  a  stage  in  the  rounds  of  West  Smithfield 
for  several  months  past,  will  continue  to  be  advised 
with  every  day  in  the  week,  from  eight  in  the 
morning  till  eight  at  night,  at  his  lodgings  at  the 
Swan  Inn,  in  West  Smithfield,  till  Michaelmas,  for 
the  good  of  all  people  that  lie  languishing  under 
distempers,  he  knowing  that  Talenta  in  agro  nan 
est  abscondita  —  that  a  talent  ought   not   to   be   hid 

D.L.H.  — 16 


242  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

in  [the  earth.  Therefore  he  exposes  himself  in 
public  for  the  good  of  the  poor.  The  many  cures 
he  has  performed  has  given  the. world  great  satis- 
faction, having  cured  fifteen  hundred  people  of  the 
king's  evil,  and  several  hundreds  that  have  been 
blind,  lame,  deaf,  and  diseased,  God  Almighty- 
having  been  pleased  to  bestow  upon  him  so  great 
a  talent,  he  thinks  himself  bound  in  duty  to  be 
helpful  to  all  sorts  of  persons  that  are  afflicted  with 
any  distemper.  He  will  tell  you  in  a  minute  what 
distemper  you  are  troubled  with  and  whether  you 
are  curable  or  not.  If  not  curable  he  will  not  take 
any  one  in  hand  if  he  might  have  five  hundred 
pounds  for  a  reward.'* 

Of  foreign  quacks  who  have  resided  in  England 
we  may  mention  Dominicetti,  Katerfelto,  and  Cag- 
liostro.  Dominicetti  in  1765  set  up  medicated  baths 
in  Cheyne  Walk,  Chelsea,  which,  although  they 
made  a  considerable  sensation  for  a  time,  do  not 
seem  to  have  secured  the  lasting  favor  of  the  pub- 
lic, for  in  1782  Dominicetti  became  bankrupt. 
Katerfelto,  an  ex-Prussian  soldier,  practised  in 
England  during  the  great  prevalence  of  influenza 
in  1782.  To  the  sale  of  his  nostrums  he  added  the 
attractions  of  legerdemain,  and  electric  and  micro- 
scopical exhibitions.  Cowper,  in  his  **  Task,  *'  alludes 
to  him:  — 

*  And  Katerfelto,  with  his  hair  on  end 
At  his  own  wonders,  wondering  for  his  bread." 

The  « arch-quack  >*  Cagliostro,  whose  story  is  told 
by  Carlyle,  favored  England  with  his  presence  from 
1785  to  1787,  He  lived  in  Sloane  Street,  Knights- 
bridge,  where  he  did  a  good  trade  in  Egyptian 
pills  at  thirty  shillings  the  drachm. 

In  1780  Dr.  Graham  opened  a  house  in  the 
Adelphi  Terrace  as  the  Temple  of  Health.  His 
rooms  were  stuffed  with  glass  globes,  marble  stat- 
ues, medico-electric  apparatus,  figures   of  dragons, 


THE  QUACK  243 

stained  glass,  and  other  theatrical  properties.  The 
air  was  drugged  with  incense,  and  the  ear  was 
charmed  with  strains  of  music  from  a  self-acting 
organ.  Here  he  lectured  on  the  beneficial  effects 
of  electricity  and  magnetism,  and  explained  ac- 
cording to  his  advertisements  "  the  whole  art  of 
enjoying  health  and  vigor  of  body  and  mind,  and 
of  preserving  and  exalting  personal  beauty  and 
loveliness :  or,  in  other  words,  of  living  with  health, 
.honor,  and  happiness  in  this  world  for  at  least  a 
hundred  years.  '^  One  of  the  means  to  this  end  was 
the  frequent  use  of  mud  baths  at  a  guinea  each; 
and  on  certain  occasions  he  might  be  seen  up  to 
his  chin  in  mud,  accompanied  by  the  priestess  of 
the  temple,  otherwise  Vestina,  the  Goddess  of 
Health.  This  "  goddess  "  was  Emma  Lyons,  pre- 
viously a  domestic  servant,  afterwards  the  wife  of 
Sir  William  Hamilton  and  the  friend  of  Lord  Nel- 
son. Dr.  Graham  removed  to  Schomberg  House  in 
Pall  Mall,  where  he  opened  the  Temple  of  Health 
and  Hymen.  Here  he  had  his  celestial  bed,  which 
he  professed  cost  sixty  thousand  pounds.  One  night 
in  this  bed  secured  a  beautiful  progeny,  and  might 
be  had  for  one  hundred  pounds.  For  a  supply  of 
his  Elixir  of  Life  he  required  one  thousand  pounds 
in  advance.  A  Prussian  traveller  who  was  in  Eng- 
land at  the  time  described  this  temple,  with  its 
vari-colored  transparent  glasses,  its  rich  vases  of 
perfumes,  half -guinea  treatises  on  health,  and  di- 
vine balm,  at  a  guinea  a  bottle.  Magneto-electric 
beds  were  on  the  second-floor,  and  might  be  slept 
in  for  fifty  pounds  a  night.  Each  bed  rested  on 
six  massive  transparent  columns.  The  perfumed 
drapery  was  of  purple,  the  curtains  of  celestial 
blue. 

Graham  spared  no  expense  to  attract  visitors. 
He  had  two  footmen  in  gaudy  liveries  and  gold- 
laced  hats  to  stand  at  the  entrance.  His  rooms  at 
night  were  brilliantly  lighted.     With  an  admittance 


244  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

fee  of  five  shillings  his  rooms  were  crowded  by 
people  anxious  to  see  this  magnificent  show  and  to 
hear  the  lecture  of  the  quack  or  his  assistants. 
One  of  his  advertisements  informs  us  that  "  Ves- 
tina,  the  rosy  Goddess  of  Health,  presides  at  the 
evening  lecture,  assisting  at  the  display  of  the 
celestial  meteors,  and  of  that  sacred  vital  fire  over 
which  she  watches,  and  whose  application  in  the 
cure  of  diseases  she  daily  has  the  honor  of  direct- 
ing. The  descriptive  exhibition  of  the  apparatus  in 
the  daytime  is  conducted  by  the  officiating  junior 
priest. "  This  priest  was  a  young  medical  man,  aft- 
erwards Dr.  Mitford,  and  father  of  the  celebrated 
authoress. 

Graham's  expenses  were  very  large,  and  when 
the  public  ceased  to  patronize  him  and  his  receipts 
fell  off,  the  Temple  of  Health  was  closed,  and  the 
whole  of  the  ^'  properties  "  were  sold  by  auction  in 
1784.  Graham  died  poor  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Glasgow. 


Married  —  At  the  residence  of  the  bride's  father, 
on  the  northwest  corner  of  Askin  and  Windham 
streets,  facing  Lawnview  Park,  being  the  only  three- 
story  pressed-brick  house  in  the  block,  James  T. 
Spooner,  Jr.,  eldest  and  only  son  of  Dr.  James  T. 
Spooner,  discoverer  and  sole  owner  of  Spooner's 
Cough  Killer,  price  25  cents  per  bottle  —  for  sale 
by  all  druggists  —  to  Cordelia  Frances,  youngest 
and  only  daughter  of  J.  Mortimer  Brown,  M.  D., 
who  glories  in  the  best    medical   practice   in    these 

here  parts. 

—  Cleburne  {Tex.)  Review. 


In  an  Irish  daily  there  recently  appeared  this 
advertisement:  "Wanted  —  A  gentleman  to  under- 
take the  sale  of  a  patent  medicine;  the  advertiser 
guarantees  it  will  be  profitable  to  the  undertaker.* 


THE  QUACI^  a4S 


REMINISCENCE    OF    OLD    TIME 
QUACKERY 

i^T  IS  amazing  that  quackery  should 
not  only  survive,  but  flourish  in 
New  England,  where  there  is  a 
newspaper  in  every  family  and  an 
educated  physician  in  every  ham- 
let. I  am  not  now  referring  to 
that  form  of  it  which  finds  expression  in  patent 
or  proprietary  medicines,  for  in  the  most  of  those 
which  attain  any  popularity  there  is  some  merit. 
I  have  in  mind  the  more  disreputable  class  which 
deals  in  charms,  commands,  and  superstitions, 
the  natural  bone-setters,  the  seventh  sons  of 
seventh  sons,  who  claim  they  inherit  the  gift  of 
healing;  who  suppose  that  those  are  most  capable 
of  repairing  the  delicate  machinery  of  human  lives 
who  are  most  ignorant  of  its  structure  and  func- 
tions. It  is  incredible  that  such  pretentious  igno- 
rance should  be  able  to  secure  a  foothold  in  an 
intelligent  community.  That  it  does,  goes  far  to 
prove  the  good  old  Presbyterian  doctrine  of  the 
total  depravity  of  the  human  heart.  An  occurrence 
with  which  I  was  once  invited  to  have  something 
to  do  professionally  will  illustrate  the  impudence  of 
the  quack  and  the  credulity  of  his  victim. 

A  farmer  of  average  intelligence,  in  good  cir- 
cumstances, was  thrown  from  his  wagon  and  suf- 
fered a  compound  fracture  of  his  thigh-bone.  An 
experienced  country  surgeon  was  called,  who  re- 
stored the  parts  to  their  places,  dressed  the  limb 
in  proper  splints,  and,  with  a  suitable  weight  and 
pulley,  arranged  to  keep  it  extended  until  there 
was  a  formation  of  the  fragments  of  bone.  He 
gave  to  the  patient  and  his  family  very  positive 
and  emphatic   instructions.     The    reparation    would 


446  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

take  a  long  time  and  involve  some  pain.  Unless 
the  farmer  wished  to  leave  his  bed  a  cripple  for 
life,  with  one  leg  some  inches  shorter  than  the 
other,  he  must  endure  the  pain  without  taking  off 
the  weights  or  handling  the  limb  in  any  way;  that 
if  the  extension  was  once  relaxed  the  cure  would 
be  difficult,  perhaps  impossible.  As  the  surgeon 
lived  several  miles  away,  he  should  not  visit  him 
more  than  once  a  week,  nor  would  more  frequent 
visits  be  necessary  if  his  instructions  were  obeyed. 
On  his  second  visit  the  surgeon  saw  that  his  in- 
structions had  not  been  followed.  After  denials 
and  prevarications  the  family  confessed  that  the 
weights  had  been  removed  and  the  position  of  the 
body  changed  several  times  because  the  pain  was 
greater  than  the  farmer  could  endure.  They  had 
therefore  relieved  the  pressure,  removed  the  band- 
ages, and  bathed  the  limb  with  hot  water.  The 
doctor  was  indignant.  He  ridiculed  the  pretended 
inability  of  the  patient,  a  strong  man,  to  bear  a 
pain  which  children  could  endure  without  complaint, 
repeated  his  directions  with  greater  emphasis,  and 
declared  that  unless  his  advice  was  followed  his 
further  attendance  was  useless,  and  if  that  upon 
his  next  visit  he  found  that  it  had  been  disregarded 
he  would  abandon  the  case  and  leave  the  patient 
to  become  a  permanent  cripple. 

Just  at  that  time,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  the  cele- 
brated Morgan  horses,  driven  by  a  colored  servant 
in  livery,  a  very  remarkable  person,  according  to 
his  own  estimate,  appeared  and  took  a  suite  of 
rooms  at  the  hotel  in  the  country  town.  He  wore 
a  long  dark  coat  of  velvet,  with  a  crimson  collar 
and  trimmings,  buckskin  trousers,  a  vest  of  figured 
satin  covering  a  ruffled  shirt  made  fast  in  the  bosom 
by  an  enormous  yellow  diamond  pin.  Thus  equipped 
and  ornamented,  he  appeared  before  the  modest 
dwelling  of  the  farmer  ready  to  guarantee  his  cure. 


THE  QUACK  247 

His  rule  was  *no  cure,  no  pay,"  but  this  case  had 
been  so  mismanaged  by  the  country  surgeon  that 
he  would  make  it  an  exception.  If  the  wounded 
farmer  would  execute  and  give  to  him  his  prom- 
issory note  for  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  as 
an  advance  payment  in  the  nature  of  a  retaining 
fee,  he  would  not  only  promise  but  guarantee  his 
cure.  Of  course  the  farmer  accepted  his  conditions 
and  signed  the  promissory  note.  There  is  a  hyp- 
notic control  which  these  quacks  can  exercise  that 
for  the  time  is  stronger  than  the  judgment  of  their 
victims.  He  did  not  even  remove  the  dressings  of 
the  wounded  limb.  He  made  various  motions  over 
it,  recited  formulas  in  unknown  tongues,  declared 
that  the  cure  would  shortly  be  complete,  pocketed 
his  promissory  note,  and  went  in  search  of  new 
victims. 

The  poor  fanner  had  a  distressing  experience. 
The  directions  of  the  surgeon  were  no  longer 
obeyed;  the  splints  and  the  dressings  of  the  limb 
were  removed;  ulceration  began,  promoted  by  bath- 
ing the  leg  in  hot  water;  there  was  no  union  of 
the  fractured  bones;  new  joints  were  formed  at  the 
fractures,  and  when  he  finally  hobbled  from  his 
bed  he  was  a  permanent  cripple,  with  a  useless 
limb,  condemned  to  the  use  of  crutches  for  the 
remainder  of  his  life.  The  quack  visited  him  a 
few  times,  assured  him  that  his  directions  as  a 
natural  bone-setter  had  never  failed,  and  that  in 
the  end  his  cure  would  be  perfect.     The  promissory 

note  was  made   payable  at  the  Bank.     On  the 

day  it  matured  it  was  presented,  payment  was  de- 
manded, and  the  note  was  protested  for  non-pay- 
ment. Suit  was  commenced  upon  it,  and,  as  the 
unjust  statutes  of  the  State  then  permitted,  all  the 
horses,  cattle,  and  personal  property  of  the  farmer 
were  'attached  and  about  to  be  removed  by  the 
sheriff,  when  his   neighbors   volunteered   and   gave 


248  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

an    undertaking  to   pay  any  judgment   which  the 
quack  should  recover  in  the  action. 

When   the   issues  in  the   action   ca;ne   on   to  be 
tried   the   farmer   was   represented   by   one   of   the 
most    skillful    advocates    at    the    bar.      The    quack 
could  not  pay  counsel  and  intrusted  his  case  to  the 
attorney  who  had   commenced  the  action.     Instead 
of   proving   the   execution  of   the   note  and  resting 
his    case,    as   he    might    have    done,    the    attorney 
called  the   quack  to  the  stand   and  proved  by  him 
the  demand  of   payment  and   the   farmer's   refusal 
to  comply  with  the  demand.     His  personal  appear- 
ance on  the  witness-stand  suggested  a  combination 
of  dancing-master  and  a  mountebank.     His  velvet 
coat  with  scarlet  ornamentation,  his  broad  expanse 
of  shirt  the  ruffles  whereof   were  transfixed  by  the 
diamond  pin,  his  velvet   knee-breeches,  silk   stock- 
ings,   pink    gloves,    and   patent   leather   shoes;    his 
hair  bleached   to   a   sickly  yellow;   his  long,  waxed 
mustache    curled   at  the  ends,  suggested  a  compar- 
ison  which  would  have  been  to  the  disadvantage  of 
a  monkey;  his  compressed  mouth,  pointed  nose  and 
chin  gave  him   the   expression  of  a  rat,   which  did 
not   at    all  comport  with   the   air   of   lofty   dignity 
which  he  attempted  but  failed  to  assume.     Without 
waiting  for  a  question  he  launched  out  upon  a  story 
of  his  tremendous  professional  successes,  the  kings 
and  the  great  persons  who  had   been  his  patients, 
and  of  his  excuses  for  treating    the   farmer  for  so 
small  a  compensation,  his  regular  fee  for  a  broken 
leg    being    five   thousand    dollars!     When    he    had 
damaged   his   case  as   much    as   he   could   by  these 
improbable   statements  he  was   turned   over   to  the 
farmer's  counsel  for  cross-examination. 

*  I  will  trouble  you,  doctor,  *  said  the  counsel, 
*'  to  name  some  patient  who  ever  paid,  or  promised 
to  pay,  you  a  fee  of  five  thousand  dollars." 


THE  QUACK  '49 

«Must  I  answer  such  an  insulting  question?* 
said  the  doctor,  appealing  to  the  judge. 

«I  think  you  must,»  said  the  judge,  "unless 
you  plead  your  privilege. » 

«Then  I  plead  my  privilege, »  he  said  promptly. 

«What  do  you  mean  by  your  privilege  ?»  de- 
manded  the  counsel. 

« I  mean  my  privilege  to  answer  such  questions 

as  I  choose.  ^^ 

«Are  you  quite  certain  that  you  know  what  is 
the  meaning  of  the  privilege  of   a  physician  ? » 

«I  know  everything  that  any  doctor  knows. » 

«That  being  the  case,  I  will  not  presume  this 
inquiry.  Now  will  you  kindly  tell  us  what  kind  of 
a  doctor  you  are  ?  ** 

« I  am  a  universal  doctor,  sir.     I  cure  all  kinds 

of  cases.'* 

"That  is  not  precisely  what  I  mean.  To  what 
school  of  medicine  do  you  belong  ?     I  should  have 

asked.  ® 

«  I  don't  belong  to  no  school.  I  don't  believe 
in  no  school.     I'm  a  born  doctor.     I  am  a  seventh 

son.  *' 

«Now,  doctor,  pray  gratify  my  curiosity  and 
tell  me  whether  you  are  a  botanic,  a  hydropathic, 
an  allopathic,  or  a  homoeopathic;  what  kind  of  a 
doctor  do  you  call  yourself." 

«I  don't  know  nothing  about  no  paths,  sir.  I 
am  a  universal   doctor,  only  I   don't   use  no  mark- 

ery.  ** 

«I  see;  you  would  be  understood  by  your  pro- 
fessional brethern  as  an  eclectic  doctor,  what  the 
Japanese  would  call  a  very  high-class  doctor  ? » 

"Yes,  that's  it.  I  didn't  understand  you.  I'm 
an  eklektik  doctor. » 

There  was  a  hesitation,  a  slight  pause  after  his 
pronunciation  of  the  first  syllable,  which  gave  to 
the  word  the  sound  of  «ecoletic,»  and  proved  to  be 


250  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

the  rock  on  which  the  quack  was  to  suflfer  shipwreck. 
In  his  very  gentle  and  kindly  tone  the  counsel  said: — 

*  Doctor,  please  give  us  the  orthography  of  the 
word  you  have  just  used.*^ 

The  wily  impostor  hesitated,  demurred,  finally 
objected.  He  did  not  claim  to  be  a  teacher  of 
spelling;  he  never  was  a  very  good  speller.  He 
appealed  to  the  court.  Was  he  under  any  obliga- 
tion to  tell  the  counsel  how  to  spell  hard  words  ? 
Judge  Pierpont  said  he  would  be  pleased  to  accom- 
modate the  witness,  but,  unfortunately,  the  counsel 
was  insisting  upon  his  clear  legal  right. 

«Then  I'll  be  d d  if  I    tell  him,»  burst  out 

the  doctor.  "  I  will  not  be  put  on  exhibition  by 
any  pettifogging  attorney !  '* 

^' As  you  please, ^^  observed  the  judge.  "Since 
you  refuse  to  answer  a  proper  question  on  cross- 
examination,  it  is  my  duty  to  direct  the  jury  to 
return  a  verdict  for  the  defendant.** 

"  No !  no !  Don't  do  that !  **  exclaimed  the  mounte- 
bank. "I'll  spell  her  —  she's  easy  enough."  He 
hastily  muttered  some  unintelligible  sounds,  and 
said :  "  That's  the  way  I  spell  her,  sir.  ** 

"  Please  stop,  sir!  **  said  the  counsel  in  his  gentle, 
but  very  decisive 'style.  "  Pronounce  each  letter  and 
syllable  distinctly  so  that  they  maybe  written  down.** 

"I  can  spell  her,  sir,**  he  exclaimed.  "  She  goes 
this  way:  E,  k,  ek,  k,  o,  ko,  1,  e,  k,  lek,  t,  i,  k, 
tik— ekkolektik!** 

He  was  at  the  end  of  his  exercise  before  the 
court  and  spectators  appreciated  the  ludicrous  ex- 
hibition  of  his  language.  The  court  made  no  effort 
to  suppress  the  roar  of  laughter  which  followed. 

The  witness  was  very  angry.  "  I  am  entitled  to 
three  guesses,**  he  said,  "if  I  have  not  fetched  her 
the  first  time.** 

"  Go  on,**  said  the  counsel.   "  I  have  no  objection.** 

"  E,  c,  k,  ek,  c,  h,  o,  ko **     The  applause  now 

completely   stopped   him.     His    colossal    impudence 


THE   QUACK  25 1 

gave  way  —  it  could  not  survive  such  ridicule.  He 
rushed  from  the  witness-box  foaming  at  the  mouth 
and  cursing  the  court  and  jury.  His  attorney  had 
nothing  to  say,  and  the  jury,  without  leaving  their 
seats,  returned  a  verdict  for  the  crippled  farmer. 
—  L.  E.   Chittenden,  ^^  Personal  Reminiscences.'*^ 


AN  ECCENTRIC  ADVERTISEMENT 
«IN  NOVA  PERT  ANIMUS » 

«  ^?rpiHESE  are  to  give  notice  (for  the  benefit  of  the 
li  public),  that  there  is  newly  arrived  from  his 
travels,  a  gentleman,  who,  after  forty  years'  study, 
hath,  by  a  wonderful  blessing  on  his  endeavors, 
discovered,  as  well  the  nature  as  the  infallible  cure 
of  several  strange  diseases,  which  (though  as  yet 
not  known  to  the  world)  he  will  plainly  demon- 
strate to  any  ingenious  artist,  to  be  the  greatest 
causes  of  the  most  common  distempers  incident  to 
the  body    of  man.      The   names    of   which    take  as 

follow :  — 

The  strong  fives 

The  marthambles 

The  moon-pall 

The  hockogrocle. 

*  Now,  though  the  names,  natures,  symptoms, 
and  several  cures  of  these  diseases,  are  altogether 
unknown  to  our  greatest  physicians,  and  the  par- 
ticular knowledge  of  them  would  (if  concealed)  be 
a  vast  advantage  to  the  aforesaid  person;  yet,  he 
well  knowing  that  his  country's  good  is  to  be  pre- 
ferred to  his  private  interest,  doth  hereby  promise 
all  sorts  of  people,  a  faithful  cure  of  all  or  any  of 
the  diseases  aforesaid,  at  as  reasonable  rates  as  our 
modern  doctors  have  for  that  of  any  common  dis- 
temper. 

<*  He  is  to  be  spoken  with  at  the  ordinary  hours 
of  business,  at  the  Three  Compasses,  in  Maiden- 
lane.*  —  Harieian,  MSS. 


252  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

A  TERRIBLE  STATE  OF  AFFAIRS 

«/?n^HERE  was  a  street-doctor  sellin'  medicine  from 
11  a  waggin'  on  the  post-office  corner  while  I 
was  in  town  this  afternoon, »  said  shrewd  old  Farmer 
Hornbeak  upon  his  return  from  a  half -day's  visit 
to  the  county  seat,  « that  struck  me  as  bein'  just 
about  the  slickest  chap  of  the  kind  that  I  ever  had 
the  pleasure  of  listenin'  to.  He  described  in  an 
awful  and  far  reachin'  voice,  a  strange  and  horrid 
disease  with  a  terrible  Latin  name  as  long  as  your 
arm,  and  thundered  that  hundreds,  nay,  thousands, 
of  people  go  all  their  lives  long  with  that  awful 
malady  ensconced  in  their  insides  and  never  know  it. 
And,  b'jing !  he  sold  his  remedy  as  fast  as  he  could 
hand  it  out,  at  a  dollar  a  bottle,  to  people  who 
were  actually  pale  with  the  conviction  that  if  they 
didn't  git  his  nostrum  to  drive  that  'ere  horrid 
Latin  disease  out  of  their  systems  they  would  never 
be  aware  that  they  were  sufferin'  from  it." 


EASILY  REMEDIED 

Manager  (patent-medicine  company)  — **  The 
printers  have  made  a  mistake  in  these  colored 
folders  we  just  got  out  for  our  new  medicine.  It 
was  to  cure  catarrh,  and  they've  printed  it  cancer. 
It  is  too  costly  a  job  for  us  to  throw  these  things 
away,  but  it's  a  bad  blunder." 

Proprietor — *^  Yes  it  is.  We'll  have  to  change 
the  name  to  cancer  on  the  labels  on  the  bottles." 


REVISING    IT    FOR    PUBLICATION 

Clerk — *  This  man  writes  that  he  feels  ten  per 
cent,  better  since  he  began  to  take  our  remedy." 

Patent  Medicine  Man — ^^  H'm.  !  —  evidently  a 
clerical  error; — he  meant  one  hundred  per  cent. 
Correct  it  accordingly  and  have  the  letter  pub- 
lished." 


THE  QUACK  253 


AN  AVALANCHE  OF  DRUGS 

HAVE  been  the  victim  of  a  somewhat  singular 
persecution  for  several  weeks  past.  When 
we  came  here  to  live,  Judge  Pitman  was 
partially  bald.  Somebody  induced  him  to  apply  to 
his  head  a  hair  restorative  made  by  a  Chicago  man 
named  Pulsifer.  After  using  this  liquid  for  a  few 
months,  the  judge  was  gratified  to  find  that  his 
hair  had  returned;  and,  as  he  naturally  regarded 
the  remedy  with  admiration,  he  concluded  that  it 
would  be  simply  fair  to  give  expression  to  his  feel- 
ings in  some  form.  As  I  happened  to  be  familiar 
with  all  the  facts  of  the  case,  the  judge  induced 
me  to  draw  up  a  certificate  affirming  them  over 
my  signature.  This  he  mailed  to  Pulsifer.  I  have 
not  yet  ceased  to  regret  the  weakness  which  per- 
mitted me  to  stand  sponsor  for  Judge  Pitman's  hair. 
Of  course  Pulsifer  immediately  inserted  the  certifi- 
cate with  my  name  and  residence  attached  to  it, 
in  half  the  papers  in  the  country,  as  a  displayed 
advertisement,  beginning  with  the  words,  "Hope 
for  the  bald-headed;  the  most  remarkable  cure  on 
record.  ^* 

I  have  had  faith  in  advertising  since  that  time; 
and  Pulsifer  had  confidence  in  it,  too,  for  he  wrote 
to  me  to  know  what  I  would  take  to  get  him  up 
a  series  of  similar  certificates  of  cures  performed 
by  his  other  patent  medicines.  He  had  a  Corn 
Salve  which  ragged  a  little  in  its  sales,  and  he 
was  prepared  to  offer  me  a  commission  if  I  would 
write  him  a  strong  letter  to  the  effect  that  six  or 
eight  frightful  corns  had  been  eradicated  from  my 
feet  with  his  admirable  preparation.  He  was  in  a 
position  also  to  do  something  handsome  if  I  could 
describe  a  few  miraculous  cures  that  had  been  ef- 
fected by  his  Rheumatic  Lotion,  or  if  I  would 
name  certain  ruined  stomachs  which  had,  as  it 
were,    been   bom    again   through    the    influence   of 


2  54  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Pulsifer's  Herb  Bitters;  and  from  the  manner  in 
which  he  wrote,  I  think  he  would  have  taken  me 
into  partnership  if  I  had  consented  to  write  an  as- 
surance that  his  Ready  Relief  had  healed  a  bad  leg 
of  eighteen  years'  standing,  and  that  I  could  never 
feel  that  my  duty  was  honorably  performed  until 
he  sent  me  a  dozen  bottles  more  for  distribution 
among  my  friends  whose  legs  were  in  that  defec- 
tive and  tiresome  condition.  I  was  obHged  to  de- 
cline Pulsifers  generous  offer. 

I    heard   with    singular    promptness   from   other 
medical  men.     Fillemup  &  Killem  forwarded  some 
of   their  Hair  Tonic,  with  a  request  for  me  to  try 
it  on  any  bald  heads  I  happened  to  encounter,  and 
report.     Doser  &  Co.  sent  on  two  packages  of  their 
Capillary  Pills,  with  a  suggestion  to  the  effect  that 
if  Pitman  lost  his  hair  again  he  would  get  it  back 
finally  by  following  the  inclosed  directions.     I  also 
heard    from    Brown    and    Bromley,    the    agents    for 
Johnson's    Scalp  Awakener.     They  sent   me  twelve 
bottles    for    distribution    among    my    bald    friends. 
Then  Smith  &  Smithson  wrote  to  say  that  a  cask  of 
their   Vesuvian    Wash    for    the   hair  would   be   de- 
livered in  my   cellar  by  the  express  company;    and 
a   man   called   on    me    from    Jones,   Butler   &   Co., 
with  a  proposition  to  pump  out  my  vinegar  barrel, 
and  fill   it  with    Balm  of    Peru   for   the   gratuitous 
use  of  the  afflicted  in  the  vicinity  of  my  residence. 
But  this  persecution  was  simply  unalloyed  felic- 
ity when  compared  with  the  suffering  that  came  in 
other  forms.     I  will  not   attempt  to  give  the  num- 
ber of  letters  received.     I  cherish  a  conviction  that 
the  mail  received  at  our  post-office  doubled  the  first 
week  after  Judge   Pitman's  cure  was  announced  to 
a  hairless  world.     I    think   every   bald-headed   man 
in  the  Tropic  of   Cancer   must  have   written  to  me 
at  least  twice  upon  the  subject  of  Pulsifer's  Reno- 
vator  and    Pitman's    hair.     Persons   dropped   me    a 
line  to  inquire  if  Pitman's  baldness  was  hereditary; 


THE  QUACK  255 

and,  if  so,  if  it  came  from  his  father's  or  his 
mother's  side.  One  man,  a  phrenologist,  sent  on 
a  plaster  head  mapped  out  into  town  lots,  with  a 
suggestion  that  I  should  ink  over  the  bumps  that 
had  been  barest  and  most  fertile  in  the  case  of 
Pitman.  He  said  he  had  a  little  theory  which  he 
wanted  to  demonstrate.  A  man  in  San  Francisco 
wrote  to  inquire  if  my  Pitman  was  the  same  Pitman 
who  came  out  to  California  in  1849  with  a  bald 
head;  and,  if  he  was,  would  I  try  to  collect  $2 
Pitman  had  borrowed  from  him  in  that  year  ?  The 
superintendent  of  a  Sunday-school  in  Vermont  for- 
warded eight  pages  of  foolscap,  covered  with  an 
argument  supporting  the  theory  that  it  was  impious 
to  attempt  to  force  hair  to  grow  upon  a  head  which 
had  been  made  bald,  because,  although  Elisha  was 
bald,  we  find  no  record  in  the  Bible  that  he  used 
a  renovator  of  any  kind.  He  warned  Pitman  to 
beware  of  Absalom's  fate,  and  to  avoid  riding  mules 
out  in  the  woods.  A  woman  in  Snyder  County, 
Pa.,  sent  me  a  poem  inspired  by  the  incident,  and 
entitled  "  Lines  on  the  Return  of  Pitman's  Hair.**  A 
party  in  Kansas  desired  to  know  whether  I  thought 
Pulsifer's  Renovator  could  be  used  beneficially  by  a 
man  who  had  been  scalped.  Two  men  in  New 
Jersey  wrote,  in  a  manner  totally  irrelevant  to  the 
subject,  to  inquire  if  I  could  get  each  of  them  a 
good  hired  girl. 

I  received  a  confidential  letter  from  a  man  who 
was  willing  to  let  me  into  a  "  good  thing  '*  if  I  had 
five  hundred  dollars  cash  capital.  Mrs.  Singerly, 
of  Frankford,  related  that  she  had  shaved  her  dog, 
and  shaved  him  too  close,  and  she  would  be  relieved 
if  I  would  inform  her  if  the  Renovator  would  make 
hair  grow  on  a  dog.  A  devoted  mother  in  Rhode 
Island  said  her  little  boy  had  accidently  drank  a 
bottle  of  the  stuff,  and  she  would  go  mad  unless  I 
could  assure  her  that  there  was  no  danger  of  her 
child   having   his    stomach    choked    up    with    hair. 


256  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

And  over  eleven  hundred  boys  inquired  what  effect 
the  Renovator  would  have  on  the  growth  of  whiskers 
which  betrayed  an  inclination  to  stagnation.  And 
all  of  these  expected  immediate  answer. 

But  the  visitors  were  a  more  horrible  torment. 
Bald  men  came  to  see  me  in  droves.  They  perse- 
cuted me  at  home  and  abroad.  If  I  went  to  church 
the  sexton  would  call  me  out  during  prayers  to  see 
a  man  in  the  vestibule  who  wished  to  ascertain  if 
Pitman  merely  bathed  his  head  or  rubbed  the  med- 
icine in  with  a  brush.  When  I  went  to  a  party, 
some  bald-headed  miscreant  would  stop  me  in  the 
midst  of  a  dance  to  ask  if  Pitman's  hair  began  to 
grow  in  the  full  of  the  moon  or  when  it  was  new. 
While  I  was  being  shaved,  some  one  would  bolt 
into  the  shop  and  insist,  as  the  barber  held  me  by 
the  nose,  upon  knowing  whether  Pitman  wore  ven- 
tilators in  his  hat.  If  I  attended  a  wedding,  as 
likely  as  not  a  bare-headed  outlaw  would  stand  by 
me  at  the  altar  and  ask  if  Pitman  ever  slept  in 
nightcaps;  and  more  than  once  I  was  called  out  of 
bed  at  night  by  wretches  who  wished  to  learn,  be- 
fore they  left  the  town,  if  I  thought  it  hurt  the 
hair  to  part  it  behind. 

It  became  unendurable,  I  issued  orders  to  the 
servants  to  admit  to  the  house  no  man  with  a  bald 
head.  But  that  very  day  a  stranger  obtained  ad- 
mission to  the  parlor:  and  when  I  went  down  to 
see  him,  he  stepped  softly  around,  closed  all  the 
doors  mysteriously,  and  asked  me,  in  a  whisper, 
if  any  one  could  hear  us.  Then  he  pulled  off  a 
wig,  and  handing  me  a  microscope,  he  requested 
me  to  examine  his  scalp  and  tell  him  if  there  was 
any  hope.  I  sent  him  over  to  see  Pitman,  and  I 
gloat  over  the  fact  that  he  bored  Pitman  for  two 
hours  with  his  baldness. 

I  am  sorry  now  that  I  ever  wrote  anything  up- 
on the  subject  of  his  hair.  A  bald  Pitman,  I 
know,  is  less  fascinating  than  a  Pitman  with  hair; 


THE  QUACK  257 

but  rather  than  have  suffered  the  misery,  I  would 
prefer  a  Pitman  without  an  eye-winker,  or  fuzz 
enough  on  him  to  make  a  camel's-hair  pencil.  But 
I  shall  hardly  give  another  certificate  of  cure  in 
any  event.  If  I  should  see  a  patent  medicine  man 
take  a  mummy  which  died  the  year  Joseph  was 
sold  into  Egypt,  and  dose  it  until  it  kicked  off  its 
rags  and  danced  the  polka  mazurka  while  it  whistled 
the  tune,  I  would  die  at  the  stake  sooner  than 
acknowledge  the  miracle  on  paper.  Pitman's  hair 
winds  me  up  as  far  as  medical  certificates  are  con- 
cerned. 

—  Max  Adeler. 


HIGHLY    RECOMMENDED 

Patent  Medicine  Proprietor — <<  Here's  a  recom- 
mend for  our  medicine  from  a  life-insurance  pres- 
ident. » 

Junior  Partner  —  "Good!     What  does  he  say?** 
Proprietor  —  "  Says  fewer   of    his    policy-holders 
die  from  taking  our  medicine  than  any  other.* 


WOULD    FILL    THE    BILL 

Mrs.  Isaacs  — "  Liddle  Shakey  says  he  vants 
somedings  oxciting  to  read — hair-breadth  esgapes, 
marvellous  resgues,  und  all  dot !  * 

Mr.  Isaacs  —  *  He  shall  haf  it !  I  vill  cut  him 
oud  a  lot  of  batent  medicine  adverdisements  at 
vunce !  '* 


SUCH    IS    FAME 

Affable  Stranger — "I  can't  help  thinking  I  have 
seen  your  picture  somewhere  in  the  newspapers.** 

Hon.  Mr.  Great  man  —  "  Oh,  no  doubt,  no  doubt. 
It's  often  been  published.** 

Stranger  — "  Then    I    was  not  mistaken.     What 
were  you  cured  of  ?  ** 
D.L.H. — 11 


258  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 


MEDICINE    FOR   THE  MILLION 

[roperly  speaking,  Medicine  for  the  Million 
consists  of  Universal  Vegetable  Pills,  Pills 
and  Ointment,  and  Life  Pills ;  all  of  which 
possess  the  singular  property  of  curing  all  diseases. 

That  they  possess  this  property  has  been  ascer- 
tained by  satisfactory  experiments,  made  by  a 
board  of  physicians.  This  board  is  established  by 
the  government,  which  licenses  the  sale  of  medi- 
cines, and  guarantees  the  assertions  of  their  pro- 
prietors; a  thing  which  it  never  would  have  the 
profligacy  to  do,  if  it  were  not  certain  of  the  truth 
of  them. 

Ordinary  medicines,  if  they  have  any  operation 
on  the  human  system  at  all,  act,  when  taken  un- 
necessarily as  poisons.  Universal  Vegetable  Pills, 
Pills  and  Ointment,  and  Life  Pills,  never  can  be 
taken  unnecessarily,  even  when  a  man  has  nothing 
the  matter  with  him;  so  that  it  is  impossible  that 
they  should  poison  anybody.  On  the  contrary. 
Life  Pills,  being  meant  to  prolong  life,  may  be 
taken  daily  in  large  quantities,  like  the  staff  of 
life,  namely,  bread,  without  doing  the  slightest  harm. 

If  any  gentleman  or  lady  has  hydrophobia,  in- 
flammation of  the  lungs,  cholera  morbus,  or  any  other 
disease  ever  so  dangerous,  he  or  she  has  nothing 
to  do  but  to  take  either  the  Vegetable  Pills,  or 
the  Pills  and  Ointment,  or  Life  Pills,  whichever 
they  please,  and  they  will  certainly  be  cured. 

The  attestations  in  favour  of  these  several  med- 
icines may  all  be  depended  on.  None  of  them  are 
false;  and  every  cobbler,  tinker,  tailor,  clodhopper, 
and  mechanic  who  signs  his  name  to  them  is  per- 
fectly qualified  to  judge  of  diseases;  so  that  when 
he  says  he  has  had  this  or  that  complaint,  and  has 
been  cured  of  it  by  the  said  medicines,  his  word 
may  safely  be  taken  by  the  British  public. 


THE   QUACK  259 

We  therefore  unhesitatingly  recommend  all  per- 
sons to  take  Medicine  for  the  Million  whether  they 
are  ill  or  not,  instead  of  having  recourse  to  med- 
ical men;  who,  having  made  disease  the  study  of 
their  lives,  cannot  possibly  be  expected  to  know 
anything  about  them. 


ART    IN    ADVERTISING 

Patent  Medicine  Proprietor  —  "I  wish  particularly 
to  reach  the  lower  classes  with  our  liver  pill." 

Advertising  Agent  —  "Then  you  should  adver- 
tise it  as  the  gentleman's  liver  pill.  * 


NATURAL    SUCCESS 


Dr.  Pille  — "  How  are    you  getting    along,  Nos- 
trum, since  you  invented  that  cure  for  colds  ?  '^ 
Dr.  Nostrum  —  "Oh,   I'm  filling  my  coughers!" 


THE  OCULIST 


/  have  a  good  eye,  uncle;  I  can  see  a  church  by  day- 


light. 


-Shakespeare,  "Much  Ado  about  Nothing,"  ii,  i. 


AWAITING    THE    BLACK    CAP 


5H    Lankester  Stumbled   out   into 
the  open. 

The  great  doctor  had  passed 
sentence.  It  was  a  black-cap 
case.  Hugh  Lankester  was  to 
lose  his  sight. 

Sir  William  had  not  said  it 
in  so  many  words.  But  there 
was  no  doubt  left  in  Lankes- 
ter's  mind.  Lankester  had  had  no  idea  things  had 
gone  so  far  when  he  decided  to  consult  Sir  William. 
Suddenly,  something  that  Sir  William  said  startled 
him,  and  Lankester  had  asked  him  point-blank: 
«  Shall  I  go  blind  ?  » 

<*You  follow  my  treatment  carefully,**  answered 
the  doctor,  ^*  and  I  think  we  shall  get  you  all  right. 
You've  been  overworking  yourself;  you  must  give 
up  all  thoughts  of  the  Exam,  for  the  present. 
You'll  have  to  use  your  sight  sparingly  now.     You 

must  take  to  dark  glasses.     You  must ** 

*  Yes,  but  you  don't  tell  me.     Shall  I  go  blind  ?  ** 
Lankester  had  interrupted,  almost  rudely. 
^*  Your  sight  may  last  you  many  years.** 
«  Thanks.** 

"  It  all  comes   from    brain    wear.     You've   been 
fidgeting  about  that  Exam.      You  must  leave  town 
(360) 


THE  OCULIST  261 

for  a  while,  and  go  into  the  country,  and  forget 
that  there  are  such  things  as  books  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Amuse  yourself.  On  no  account  allow 
yourself  to  be  depressed.  Good-by,  and  let  me  see 
you  again  in  a  month.  Meanwhile,  keep  up  your 
pecker.  ** 

The  great  doctor,  a  stem  person  to  look  at,  had 
spoken  almost  tenderly. 

And  now  Hugh  Lankester  was  outside. 

*  Curse  Elphinstone !  '^  he  muttered. 
Elphinstone  was  the  man,  a  former  schoolfellow 

of  Lankester's,  now  walking  the  hospitals,  who  had 
advised  him  to  go  and  see  the  great  doctor.  Lan- 
kester had  met  him  one  afternoon  —  it  was  one  of 
his  bad  days  —  and  had  told  him  of  the  curious 
tricks  his  eyes  were  playing. 

*  They  get  all  misty,  *  he  explained. 
Elphinstone  looked  grave,  and  said:  — 

*  Take  my  advice,  old  man,  and  go  to  a  special- 
ist.» 

Lankester  said  he  would  take  the  advice.  But 
when  he  got  home,  and  looked  at  his  eyes  in  the 
glass,  he  could  see  that  there  was  nothing  at  all 
the  matter  with  them,  and  he  set  Elphinstone  down 
as  an  alarmist.  Then,  in  a  few  days,  he  ran  across 
Elphinstone  again. 

*  Well,  have  you  been  to  an  oculist  ?  *  he  asked. 
«No.» 

Elphinstone  then  told  him  plainly  that  he  was 
a  confounded  young  idiot  to  delay  the  thing  like 
that. 

"I'll  go  after  my  Exam.,"  said  Lankester. 

*  No,  go  to-morrow, "  said  Elphinstone. 

And  now  he  had  been,  and  he  was  cursing  the 
man  who  had  sent  him.  If  a  fellow  had  to  go 
blind  —  well,  let  it  come  suddenly  and  unexpect- 
edly. Far  better  so  than  to  have  to  sit  at  home 
watching  for  it  day  by  day.     Curse  Elphinstone! 

Curse   everyone!     Why   the    devil   did    they  all 


262  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

get  in  his  way  ?  He  was  hurrying  down  Oxford 
Street  now  —  he  did  not  quite  know  where  to  — 
and  people  kept  running  into  him,  and  jostling  up 
against  him  as  he  passed. 

^*  Curse  you !  '^  he  cried,  savagely,  to  a  child  who 
got  in  his  path,  and  the  child  ran  off  howling  to 
its  mother. 

Then,  by  a  strange  irony,  he  knocked  into  an 
old  blind  man  who  was  standing  on  the  curb,  and 
upset  his  tray  of  matches. 

"  Shame !  ^^  said  a  woman.  *^  Look  what  you've 
done,  you  clumsy  lout  —  and  him  blind,  too." 

Lankester  turned. 

<^  What's  that  ?  Blind,  do  you  say  ?  Poor  devil ! 
I  didn't  know  that.  You  can't  see  at  all  ?  Ah, 
that's  bad.  God  knows,  I'm  sorry  for  you.  It 
must  be  hard  not  to  see  —  cruel  hard  —  devilish 
hard.     Here.'^ 

And  he  took  half-a-sovereign  from  his  pocket, 
and  gave  it  to  the  man. 

*^  You  are  generous,  my  lord,  **  said  the  woman, 
who  thought  it  was  a  farthing. 

Lankester  continued  on  his  way.  At  last  he 
got  a  stretch  of  pavement  to  himself,  which  set 
him  free  to  think  again.  Well,  one  thing,  at  any 
rate,  was  pretty  certain;  it  was  all  up  with  his 
career.  The  Indian  Civil  Service  would  have  to  try 
and  get  along  without  the  aid  of  Hugh  Lankester. 
He  supposed,  by  the  bye,  that  the  guv'nor  would 
stump  up  all  right.  Or  would  he  have  to  walk  the 
streets,  led  by  a  mongrel  cur,  selling  matches  ? 

*  Fusees,  a  haypenny  a  box ;  pity  the  poor  blind 
man !  "  he  rehearsed  between  his  teeth. 

The  idea  tickled  him  and  he  smiled.  Then, 
suddenly,  he  thought  of  Ethel  and  got  serious 
again.  Ethel !  Ah,  that  was  the  worst.  That  was 
where  it  hit  hardest.  Of  course,  he  could  not  — 
would  not  marry  her  now.  He  must  let  her  off. 
And  yet  —  he  might  get  better.     For  what  had  the 


THE  OCULIST  263 

doctor  said  f  **Your  sight  may  last  you  many 
years.  *^  What  a  duffer  he  was  to  make  up  his  mind 
for  the  worst.  That  was  just  like  him.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  the  sight  would  not  give  out.  And  yet 
—  what  was  the  good  of  deceiving  himself  ?  That 
had  only  been  a  way  of  putting  it.  The  doctor 
knew  well  enough  it  would  go,  and  soon.  It  was 
not  to  be  doubted.  He  must  give  up  Ethel.  Under 
the  circumstances  he  could  not  expect  her  to  marry 
him.  Imagine  pleasure-loving  little  Ethel  wedded 
to  a  blind  man  —  or,  at  best,  a  man  with  black 
goggles!  He  laughed  aloud  at  the  idea.  Har- 
greaves  would  have  her  now.  .  .  .  For  a  mo- 
ment he  felt  remarkably  like  blubbering. 
Then  he  began  to  wonder  whether  he  should 
have  warning  of  it,  or  would  it  come  quite  sud- 
denly ?  Why  hadn't  he  asked  the  doctor  that  ? 
But,  of  course,  the  sight  would  gradually  get  weaker 
and  weaker  until  it  went  out  altogether.  That  is 
how  it  would  be.  Well,  he  knew  what  he  would 
do  as  soon  as  he  felt  it  coming.  He  was  not  going 
to  live  in  darkness  all  his  life.  Hugh  Lankester 
was  not  quite  such  a  fool  as  that.     Not  quite. 

He  had  reached  Bond  Street.  Two  ladies  bowed 
to  him.  It  did  not  strike  him  till  they  had  passed 
that  he  had  not  raised  his  hat  to  them.  Hang  it 
all,  how  abominably  rude  they  must  have  thought 
him.  He  must  wake  up.  He  stretched  his  eyes. 
How  strong  the  sun  was!  Then  he  fell  to  think- 
ing again.  He  called  to  mind  now  how  once,  at 
an  **  At  Home "  about  a  couple  of  years  ago,  a 
palmistry  woman  had  examined  his  hand,  and  had 
said :  — 

"You  won't  have  a  very  long  life — you'll  com- 
mit suicide.'^  At  the  time  he  had  treated  it  as  a 
good  joke. 

But  suppose,  after  all,  the  thing  should  come 
suddenly,  without  warning  ?  It  was  just  possible. 
Then  it  would   be   too  late;  he  would   not   be   able 


364  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

to  see  to  do  anything.  .  .  .  Better,  perhaps,  to 
have  done  with  it  at  once.  Yes,  yes.  No,  not 
quite  at  once,  though.     He  would   go   on   the   bust 

for    a  week,  and  then How  should  he  do    it  ? 

He  must  buy  a  pistol.  Or  poison  ?  No,  poison 
was  a  woman's  way.  Better  get  the  pistol.  Still, 
poison  was  cleaner.  And  yet  he  did  not  know. 
Pistol  —  poison  ?     Poison  —  pistol  ?     Pistol 

Suddenly  he  stopped,  and  put  his  hand  to  his 
eyes. 

®  Hell !  *  he  cried,  staggering  back  against  a 
shop- window,   **  Hell !  it's  come !  '* 

People  ran  up. 

*  It's  come !  ^*  he  cried,  "  its  come !  '*  Then  added, 
*  But  it's  too  soon.     It's  not  fair,  it's  not  fair.* 

*  What's  come  ?  *  asked  the  crowd. 

« It  —  it.  Oh,  light  the  gas  —  light  the  gas; 
won't  somebody  light   the  gas  ?  * 

He  tore  at  his  eyes. 

The  eyes  were  still  open,  but  the  sight  was 
gone. 

They  led  him  away. 

*  Five  pounds  to  the  man  who'll  kill  me  !  Ten 
pounds!  A  hundred  pounds!  Oh,  for  mercy's  sake! 
—  is  there  no  Christian  here  who'll  do  it?" 

^*  Billay !  *  shouted  a   boy,   ^^  'ere's  a  bloke  off  'is 

nut.» 

—  Walter  L.  Emanuel. 


AN   OPTICAL  ILLUSION 

Optician  —  "I  cannot  sell  you  spectacles  for 
your  husband.  He  must  come  for  them  in  person. 
What  is  the  nature  of  his  visual  defect  ?  * 

Woman  —  *A  5 -cent  piece  looks  bigger  to  him 
than  a  $5  bank  note  to  other  people." 


THE  OCULIST  365 


THE  MEDICAL  MAN  TO  HIS  MISTRESS 

fpON  one  <<  fringed  curtain  >> 
Of  thy  so  lustrous  eyne. 
Hath  come,  'tis  but  too  certain, 

A  residence  for  swine. 
That  eye  with  tears  suffusing, 

Is  plaintiff  in  eclipse, 
My  tardy  hand  accusing. 

Accuse  me,  too,  thy  lips. 

Dearest,  my  willing  lancet 

Must  yet  delay  its  lunge; 
Somewhat  thou  may'st  advance  it 

With  poultice  and  with  sponge. 
Once  cut,  a  little  later, 

The  blinding  stye  shall  heal. 
And  make  a  new  Spectator 

With  the  gentle  touch  of  Steel. 


A  MAN  applied  to  an  optician  for  a  pair  of 
spectacles,  and  after  having  tried  several,  said  he 
could  not  read  with  them.  **  Could  you  ever  read  ?  '* 
replied  the  optician.  ^*No,*^  said  the  fellow.  **If 
I  could,  do  you  think  me  so  great  an  ass  as  to 
wish  to  wear  glasses  ?  * 


«  Yes,  *  said  the  doctor,  *<  that  young  man  you 
just  met  has  a  strange  affection  of  the  eyes.  He 
sees  everything  upside  down.^' 

*0h,  dear!"  wailed  the  sweet  young  thing, 
«  how  immodest  I  feel !  '* 


*  My  dear  doctor,  I  suffer  a  great  deal  with 
my  eyes.** 

<<  Be  patient,  madam,**  said  he,  *you  would 
probably  suffer    a   great  deal  more  without  them.** 


266  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


SHAPE  OF  AN  ANESTHETIC 

PHYSICIAN  tells  the  following:  — 

^^  Some  time  ago  I  happened  to  spend  the 
night  in  a  country  town  not  far  from  Bath,  and  it 
happened  that  there  was  stopping  at  the  same 
hotel  an  itinerant  eye  specialist. 

*^  We  drifted  into  a  conversation,  and  during 
the  course  of  the  evening  he  told  me  of  some  of 
the  marvellous  operations  he  had  performed  on  the 
eye.  One  case,  in  particular,  he  spoke  of  that 
caused  me  considerable  astonishment,  for  I  didn't 
know,  I  confess,  that  the  operation  had  been  suc- 
cessfully performed.  He  said  he  had  recently 
taken  out  a  patient's  eye,  scraped  the  back  of  it, 
and  returned  it  to  its  proper  place.  The  patient, 
he  said,  was  never  troubled  with  bad  eyesight  aft- 
erward. 

**That  was  a  difficult  operation,  doctor,*  said  I. 

"*Yes,*  he  said,  ^it  was.* 

*  *  I  suppose  you  found  it  necessary  to  employ  an 
anesthetic  ?  * 

«<Yes;  I  did,*  he  admitted. 

"  ^  What  anesthetic  did  you  use,  doctor  ?  *  I  per- 
sisted. 

*  *  Oh !  well,  unless  you  are  familiar  with  such 
operations  you  probably  wouldn't  understand  if  I 
were  to  tell  you.  But  —  well,  it  was  shaped  some- 
thing like  a  spoon,  *  explained  the  eminent  specialist. " 


THE    DENTIST 

Uneasy  lies  the  root  that  wears  a  crown 


WAITING    FOR    THE    DENTIST 

HROUGH  many  dismal  years  I've  been 
To  dnll  old  Care  apprenticed, 
Of  smaller  woes  the  worst  I've  seen 
Is  —  waiting  for  the  dentist! 

How  dreary  is  the  cheerless  room 
Where  pain  must  bide  his  pleasure, 

The  very  chairs  are  steeped  in  gloom 
And  seem  to  grieve  at  leasure. 

As  if  his  patients'  molar  grief, 
So  uncontrolled  its  swelling, 
For  its  fierce  tide  had  sought  relief 
By  deluging  the  dwelling. 

Books  cannot  soothe  a  rampant  tooth 

Though  they  enrich  a  table, 
Sorrow  alone  seems  kin  to  truth. 

And  joy  a  lying  fable. 

When  from  the  window  you,  perchance, 

Behold  sweet  girlhood's  graces, 
They  only  make  you  look  askance 

And  think  how  sore  your  face  is. 

On  many  chairs  and  sofas,  too. 

More  martyrs  round  you  languish, 

You  glance  at  them,  they  glance  at  you. 
And  give  a  groan  of  anguish. 

(267) 


268  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

You  deem  it  hard  their  turn  arrives 

Before  you  in  rotation, 
Or  they  wax  wrath  that  yours  deprives 

Their  case  of  consolation. 

You  muse  upon  the  ruthless  wrench 

That  buys  a  tooth's  departing. 
Or  how  the  stopping-pangs  to  quench. 
In  which  you  may  be  starting; 

Or  haply  on  these  ivory  chips 

Harsh  Nature  may  deny  you. 
But  which  the  "  golden  key  '*  equips 

Man's  genius  to  supply  you. 

No  words  your  mood  of  mind  express, 

A  mood  devoid  of  quiet, 
Where  pain,  delight,  and  keen  distress 

Mingle  in  hopeless  riot. 

Yes,  though  much  sorrow  one  must  know 
While  to  old  Care  apprenticed, 

The  greatest  unheroic  woe 
Is  —  waiting  for  the  dentist. 

—  Mackenzie  Bell. 


A  SWEET  TOOTH 

*  So  your  sweet  tooth  was  the  cause  of  all  your 
trouble  at  the  dentist's  ?  ® 

*<Yes,  and  I'll  tell  you  what  —  it  wasn't  exactly 
*  sweetness  long  drawn  out,*  either.* 


NATURE  SUFFICIENT 

Dentist — "With  or  without  gas?  With  gas, 
fifty  cents  extra." 

Mr.  Hardache  —  «  Ef  you  can't  see  in  this  glar- 
ing sunlight,  I  hain't  goin'  to  pay  you  extry  for 
gas,  that's  sartain."  / 


THE  DENTIST  269 

ANCIENT  DENTISTRY 

)hile  no  specific  data  can  be  obtained 
as  to  the  origin  of  dentistry,"  says 
a  writer  in  the  North  American 
Review,  **•  we  know  it  was  practised 
among  the  Egyptians  at  a  very 
early  age.  Herodotus  (500  B.C.),  in  writing  of 
his  travels  through  Egypt,  at  that  time  one  of  the 
greatest  and  most  civilized  countries  in  the  world, 
mentions  the  division  of  medicine  in  that  kingdom 
into  special  branches,  and  the  existence  of  physi- 
cians, each  of  whom  *  applies  himself  to  one  disease 
only  and  not  more.  Some  [physicians]  are  for  the 
eyes,  others  for  the  head,  others  for  the  teeth,  and 
others  for  internal  disorders.*  It  is  thought  that 
the  Egyptians  and  Etruscans  were  further  advanced 
in  the  art  of  dentistry  than  any  other  people  in 
that  early  period,  for  teeth  filled  with  gold  have 
been  found  in  the  mouths  of  mummies,  indicating 
their  advanced  ideas.  These  people  were  the  first 
to  supply  artificial  substitutes  in  the  mouth.  Belzoni 
and  others  have  found  artificial  teeth  made  of  syca- 
more wood  in  ancient  sarcophagi.  The  mode  of 
fastening  was  by  ligatures  or  bands  of  cord  or  gold 
wire,  tying  the  substitute  to  its  natural  neighbors. 
*  In  1885  some  specimens  of  prehistoric  dentistry 
were  brought  to  this  country  by  an  English  dentist 
of  Liverpool.  One  was  a  gold  plate  with  several 
human  teeth  attached.  The  specimens  were  found 
in  an  Etruscan  tomb.  The  plate  was  ingeniously 
made,  and  I  was  surprised  to  see  gold  used  for  a 
base  by  such  an  ancient  people.** 


For  there  was  never  yet  philosopher 

That  could  endure  the  tooth-ache  patiently. 

—  Shakespeare:  *-^  Much  Ado  About 
Not  king. ->->    Act  V.  Sc.   i. 


270  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

ADDRESS    TO    THE    TOOTHACHE 

jJY  CURSE  upon  thy  venomed  stang, 

That  shoots  tny  tortured  gums  alang; 
And  thro'  my  lugs  gies  mony  a  twang; 
Wi'  gnawing  vengeance; 
Tearing  my  nerves  wi'  bitter  pang. 
Like  racking  engines! 

When  fevers  burn,  or  ague  freezes. 
Rheumatics  gnaw,  or  cholic  squeezes; 
Our  neighbor's  sympathy  may  ease  us 

Wi'  pitying  moan; 
But  thee  —  thou  hell  o'  a'  diseases, 

Aye  mocks  our  groan! 

Adown  my  beard  the  slavers  trickle! 
I  kick  the  wee  stools  o'er  the  meikle, 
As  round  the  fire  the  giglets  keckle. 

To  see  me  loup; 
While,  raving  mad,  I  wish  a  heckle 

Were  in  their  doup. 

O'  a'  the  num'rous  human  dools, 

111  har'sts,  daft  bargains,  cutty  stools, 

Or  worthy  friends  rak'd  i'  the  mools, 

Sad  sight  to  me! 
The  tricks  o*  knaves  or  fash  o'  fools, 

Thou  bear'st  the  g^ee. 

Where'er  that  place  be  priests  ca'  hell. 
Whence  a'  the  tones  o'  mis'ry  yell. 
And  ranked  plagues  their  numbers  tell, 

In  dreadfu'  raw, 
Thou,  TOOTHACHE,  stiTely  bear'st  the  bell 

Amang  them  a'! 

O  thou  grim,  mischief-making  chiel. 
That  gars  the  notes  o'  discord  squeel, 
'Till  daft  mankind  aft  dance  a  reel 

In  gore  a  shoe-thick;  — 
Gie  a'  the  faes  o'  Scotland's  weal 

A  towmond's  Toothache. 

—  Robert  Burns. 


■  :iiiJ^fi}ii-},j^- 


A  T    THE    1)E  A  J  J  S  I  •'  S 


•,-cll 


The  DENfisl'  iji 


SURPRISING 

yr^NAT  came  to  the  dentist's  with  his  jaw  very  much 
u?  swollen  from  a  tooth  he  desired  to  have 
pulled.  But  when  the  suffering  son  of  Erin  got 
into  the  dentist's  chair  and  saw  the  gleaming  pair 
of  forceps  approaching  his  face,  he  positively  re- 
fused to  open  his  mouth.  The  dentist  quietly  told 
his  page  boy  to  prick  his  patient  with  a  pin,  and 
when  Pat  opened  his  mouth  to  yell  the  dentist 
seized  the  tooth,  and  out  it  came.  «  It  didn't  hurt 
as  much  as  you  expected  it  would,  did  it  ? "  the 
dentist  asked,  smilingly. 

«  Well,  no,»  replied  Pat  hesitatingly,  as  if  doubt- 
ing the  truthfulness  of  his  admission.  *  But,"  he 
added,  placing  his  hand  on  the  spot  where  the  lit- 
tle boy  pricked  him  with  the  pin,  «  begorra,  little 
did  I  think  the  roots  would  reach  down  like  that.* 


A  SWELL  AFFAIR 

N  Irishman,  with  one  side  of  his  face  badly 
swollen,  stepped  into  a  dentist's  office  and 
inquired  if  the  dentist  was  in.  **  I  am  the  dentist,*^ 
said  Dr.  W.  *Well,  thin,  I  want  ye  to  see  what's 
the  matter  wid  me  tooth. »  The  doctor  then  ex- 
amined the  offending  molar  and  explained  that 
*  The   nerves   are   dead,  that's  what's   the   matter.  * 

«Thin,  by  the  holy  Saint  Patrick !»  the  Irish- 
man exclaimed,  **the  dom  tooth  must  be  houldin' 
a  wake  over  thim ! " 


A    USUAL    FEELING 

Dentist — *I  have  pulled  the  tooth  out.  Now, 
how  do  you  feel  ?  * 

Sufferer — «Feel!  Why,  I  feel  as  if  you  had 
pulled  my  head  out  and  left  the  tooth." 


V72  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

THE    SOLE    EXCEPTION 

The  new  lodger — *I  must  look  for  another 
room,  Mrs.  Chamberhall.  The  noise  in  the  neigh- 
borhood last  night  was  simply  unbearable!  Three 
times  was  I  awakened  by  the  shrieks  of  some  per- 
son in  agony.'* 

Mrs.  Chamberhall —  **  Oh,  please  do  not  be 
hasty.  It  is  but  one  night  in  the  week  when  the 
painless  dentist  keeps  open.* 


ENTERPRISE 

Dentist  —  *  Will  you  take  gas  sir  ?  » 

Patient— '-'-1  think  I'd  better.* 

Dentist  (to  clerk)  —  **  Henry  make  out  a  life 
and  accident  policy  for  this  gentleman  —  no  extra 
charge,  sir  —  you  see  competition  is  keen  these 
days  —  what's  the  name,  please?  —  and  we  have  to 
offer  extra  inducements  to  hold  our  trade ;  all  ready 
now,  sir.* 

A  BELATED  tourist  was  obliged  to  ask  for  a  bed 
at  a  farm-house,  having  wandered  far  from  his  ho- 
tel. On  rising  in  the  morning  he  found  himself 
without  tooth-powder.  Looking  about  him,  he 
espied  on  the  mantel-piece  a  small  box  containing 
powder,  which  he  used.  When  he  paid  for  his 
bed,  he  apologized  to  the  farmer's  wife  for  having 
used  her  tooth-powder.  "  Tooth-powder  ?  *  she 
queried;  *we  have  none.*  **Yes,  my  good  wo- 
man. It  was  in  a  small  round  box  on  the  mantel- 
piece.* "That,*  she  screamed — "that  was  not 
tooth-powder!  That  was  aunty!  *  Aunty  had  been 
cremated. 


A   DENTIST   advertised:    "Teeth    extracted  with 
great  pains.* 


THE  DENTIST  273 


THE  STRICTEST  CONFIDENCE 

Dentist  —  *^  Oh,  madame  may  be  perfectly  easy 
in  her  mind.  We  dental  surgeons  always  make  a 
point  of  observing  the  strictest  confidence.  Only 
last  week,  for  instance,  I  supplied  Countess  Pamp- 
mann  and  Baroness  Borgheim  with  a  complete  set 
each,  and  not  a  soul  living  knows  a  word  about  it.  ** 

—  Munchener  Blatter. 


One  said  a  tooth-drawer  was  a  kind  of  uncon- 
scionable trade,  because  his  trade  was  nothing  else 
but  to  take  away  those  things  whereby  every  man 
gets  his  living. 

—  Hazlitt^*- Shakespeare  Jest  Books. "^ 


**  Do  vou  know,  *^  said  the  man  who  was  going 
to  have  a  tooth  pulled,  ^*  I  don't  think  *  dental  par- 
lor^ is  a  good  phrase.**  *  No  ?  **  *^  Drawing-room 
would  be  much  better.** 


*  You  look  so  pleased ;  where  have  you  been  ?  ** 
*  I've  been  visiting  dentists'  offices,  and  had  a  love- 
ly time;  got  a  lot  of  new  ideas  for  our  college 
yell.** 


*  Speaking  of  getting  a  tooth  pulled,**  said  the 
corn-fed  philosopher,  **  that  is  one  instance  where  a 
man  is  bound  to  stay  and  see  the  thing  out.** 


No  PROFESSIONAL  man  lives  so  much  from  hand 
to  mouth  as  a  dentist. 


A  DENTIST  at  work  at  his  vocation  always  looks 
down  in  the  mouth. 

D.L.H. — 18 


THE     CHEMIST 


Mingle  a  little  folly  with  your  wisdom. 

—  Horace. 


11 

"J/^^    tort. 


A  CHEMIST'S  VALENTINE 

LOVE  thee,  Mary,  and  thou  lovest  me, 
Our  mutual  flame  is  like  the  affinity 
That  doth  exist  between  two  simple  bod- 
ies; 
I  am  potassium  to  thy  oxygen; 
'Tis  little  that  the  holy  marriage  vow 
Shall  shortly  make  us  one.     That  unity 
Is,  after  all,  but  metaphysical. 
Oh!  would  that  I,  my  Mary,  were  an  acid  — 
A  living  acid,  thou  an  alkali. 

Endowed  with  human  sense,  that,  brought  together, 
We  both  might  coalesce  into  one  salt, 
One  homogeneous  crystal.     Oh,  that  thou 
Wert  carbon,  and  myself  wert  hydrogen ! 
We  would  unite  to  form  olefiant  gas 
Of   common  coal  or  naptha.     Would  to  heaven 
That  I  were  phosphorus  and  thou  wert  lime 
And  we  of  lime  composed  a  phosphuret! 
I'd  be  content  to  be  sulphuric  acid. 
So  that  thou  might'st  soda  be.     In  that  case 
We'd  be  Glauber's  salts.     Wert  thou  magnesia. 
Instead,  we'd  form  the  salt  that's  named  from  Epsom. 
Could'st  thou  potassa  be,  I  aquafortis. 
Our  happy  union  should  that  compound  form, 
Nitrate  of  potash  —  otherwise  saltpetre. 
And  thus,  our  several  natures  sweetly  blent. 
We'd  live  and  love  together  until  death 
Should  decompose  this  fleshy  tertium  quid. 
Leaving  our  souls  to  all  eternity 
Amalgamated!     Sweet,  thy  name  is  Briggs, 
And  mine  is  Johnson.     Wherefore  should  not  we 
Agree  to  form  a  Johnsonate  of  Briggs? 
(274) 


THE   CHEMIST  27$ 

A    CHEMICAL  TRAGEDY 

Our  Willie  passed  away  to-day, 

His  face  we'll  see  no  more; 
What  Willie  took  for  H^  O, 

Proved  H,  SO^. 


HIS  SCHEME 

Friend — "What  are  you  working  at,  Profes- 
sor ?  * 

Chemist  —  "I'm  trying  to  devise  a  method  of 
preventing  milk  from  mixing  with  water.  Then 
I'll  organize  the  *  Bighed  Waterproof  Milk  Com- 
pany, and  my  fortune  will  be  made.* 


j/i7//2^;'_«  Well,  Judith,  did  you  get  promoted 
in  school  ?  '^ 

Daughter — <<  Yes,  mamma,  and  I  shall  study 
chemistry  and  physics.** 

Mother  —  <^  Well  do  you  know  the  difference  ?  ** 

Daughter — <*  Oh  yes.  Lillie  has  been  in  the 
chemistry  and  physics  class  a  whole  year,  and  ex- 
plained everything  to  me.  When  the  bottles  re- 
main complete,  it  is  physics;  when  they  break,  it 
is  chemistry.** 

An  ignorant  woman  asked  a  gentleman  what 
was  the  difference  between  oxygen  and  hydrogen. 
He  replied:  <' Oxy-gin  is  pure  gin  and  hydro-gfin 
is  gin  and  water.** 


OUR  FRIEND,   THE 
APOTHECARY 


/  do  remember  an  apothecary,— 
And  hereabouts  he  dwells. 

—  Shakespeare,  <<  Romeo  and  Juliet,»  v.  i. 


APOTHECARIES 

jjF  THE  brilliant  shops  of  the  modern  city 
the  apothecary's  is  usually  the  most 
splendid:  a  flood  of  light  falls  on  the 
gay  array  of  salts  and  essences;  a  lav- 
ish expense  is  wasted  in  preparing  a 
chamber  that  seems  borrowed  from  a 
fairy  place.  The  apothecary  surrounds 
himself  with  carving  and  gilding,  with 
mirrors  and  colored  glass,  and  revels  in  a  mag- 
nificence that  might  have  satisfied  a  Louis  XIV. 
It  is  supposed  that  the  Arab  physicians  first  invented 
the  prescription,  and  thus  gave  rise  to  the  neces- 
sity of  providing  a  particular  place  for  the  sale  of 
drugs.  From  Cordova  and  Granada  the  practice 
passed  into  Italy.  The  medical  schools  of  Naples 
or  Salerno  brought  into  use  the  prescriptions  of 
Avicenna  and  the  ancients,  and  most  of  the  ma- 
terials of  medicine  came  from  Arabia  and  the  dis- 
tant East. 

A  formidable  list  of  dangerous  compounds  was 
soon  provided,  and  it  was  found  necessary  to  enact 
stringent  laws  regulating  their  sale.  In  many  cities 
the  apothecaries'  shops  were  established  at  the  pub- 
lie  expense;  gardens  were  prepared  for  raising  the 
necessary  plants  and  herbs;  laboratories,  furnaces, 
(376) 


OUR  FRIEND,  THE  APOTHECARY  277 

and  the  means  of  distillation  were  added;  royal 
and  noble  women  sometimes  presided  over  the 
preparation  of  drugs,  and  the  court  apothecary- 
was  held  in  high  esteem.  In  Brunswick  a  princess 
maintained  a  drug  shop  at  her  court  for  the  benefit 
of  the  poor,  and  with  Christian  compassion  gave 
away  medicines  and  distilled  waters  to  strangers  as 
well  as  her  own  people. 

Yet  the  apothecary  was  not  without  his  de- 
famers.  Lemnus  asserted  that  the  early  English 
lived  longest  when  no  physic  was  used  in  the 
island.  Montaigne  suggests  that  his  father  and 
grandfather  reached  a  peaceful  old  age  because  they 
avoided  drugs.  Cardan  thought  there  was  much 
« cozening'*  among  doctors,  but  Burton  defends 
medicine  as  a  noble  and  divine  science.  From  the 
fifteenth  century  druggists'  shops  spread  rapidly 
over  Europe,  and  have  risen  through  much  defam- 
ation  to  unprecedented  splendor.  It  is  not  likely 
that  those  of  Bagdad  or  Cordova  could  have  vied 
with  their  modern  rivals. 

Among  the  early  materials  of  medicine,  precious 
stones  and  jewels  held  a  high  place.  A  topaz,  if 
hung  about  the  neck,  was  supposed  « to  resist  sor- 
row and  recreate  the  heart.''  The  onyx  kept  the 
whole  body  in  a  good  condition.  Coral  was  a  cure 
for  many  ills;  the  emerald  was  equally  efEective. 
But  the  loadstone,  Cabeus,  the  Jesuit,  tells  us,  if 
taken  inwardly,  like   viper's  wine,  will   restore  one 

to  his  youth. 

—  Eugene  Lawrence. 


A  MODERN  DRUG  STORE  ADD 

Just  drop  into  our  store  to-day 
And  see  the  bargains  fall. 

Our  peerless  bargains  bring  disease 
Within  the  reach  of  all! 


278  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 


THE   LAMENT 

Of  an  Unfortunate  Druggist 

A  member  of  the  pharmaceutical  society,  whose  matrimonial  specula- 
tions have  been  disappointed. 

ou   that   have   charge    of    wedded    love,  take 
heed 
To  keep  the   vessel  which   contains  it  air- 
tight; 

So  that  no  oxygen  may  enter   there! 
Lest  (like  as  in  a  keg  of  elder  wine, 
The  which,  when  made,  thy  careless  hand  forgot 
To  bung  securely  down)  full  soon,  alas! 
Acetous  fermentation  supervene 
And  winter  find  thee  wineless,  and,  instead 
Of  wine,  afford  thee  nought  but  vinegar. 

Thus  hath  it  been  with  me:     there  was  a  time 
"When  neither  rosemary  nor  jessamine. 
Cloves  or  verbena,  marechale,  resede, 
Or  e'en  great  Otto's  self,  were  more  delicious 
Unto  my  nose,  than  Betsy  to  mine  eyes; 
And,  in  our  days  of  courtship,  I  have  thought 
That  my  career  through  life,  with  her,  would  be 
Bright  as  my  own  show-bottles;  but,  ah  me! 
It  was  a  vision'd  scene.     From  what  she  was 
To  what  she  is,  is  as  the  pearliness 
Of  Creta  Praep.  compared  with  Antim.  Nig. 
There  was  a  time  when  she  was  all  Almond-ynixture 
(A  bland  emulsion;  I  can  recommend  it 
To  him  who  hath  a  cold),  but  now,  woe!  woe! 
She  is  a  fierce  and  foaming  combination 
Of  turpentine  with  vitriolic  oil. 

Oh!  name  not  Sulphur,  when  you  speak  of  her, 
For  she  is  Brimstone's  very  incarnation, 
She  is  the  Bitter-apple  of  my  life. 
The  Scillas  oxymel  of  my  existence, 
That  knows  no  sweets  with  her. 

What  shall  I  do?  — where  fly?  — What  Hellebore 
Can  ease  the  madness  that  distracts  my  brain! 
What  aromatic  vinegar  restore 
The  drooping  memory  of  brighter  days! 


OUR  FRIEND,   THE   APOTHECARY  279 

They  bid  me  seek  relief  in  Prussic  acid; 

They  tell  me  Arsenic  holds  a  mighty  power 

To  put  to  flight  each  ill  and  care  of  life: 

They  mention  Opium,  too;  they  say  its  essence, 

Call'd  Battley's  Sedative,  can  steep  the  soul 

Chin-deep  in  blest  imaginings;  till  grief, 

Chang'd  by  its  chemic  agency,  becomes 

One  lump  of  blessed  Saccharum ;  —  these  things 

They  tell  to  me  —  me,   who  for  twelve  long  years 

Have  triturated  drugs  for  a  subsistence. 

From  seven  i'  tli   morn,  until  the  midnight  hour. 

I  have  no  faith  in  physic's   agency 

E'en  when  most  ^*- genuine,'''*  for  I  have  seen 

And  analysed  its  nature,  and  I  know 

That  Humbug  is  its  Active  Principle, 

Its  ultimate  and  Elemental  Basis. 

What  then  is  left?    No  more  to  Fate  I'll  bend; 

I  will  rush  into   chops!  and   Stout  shall   be  —  my  end! 


NOT    A    SEIDLITZ    POWDER 

(t^iNCE  Lord  Beauchamp  the  present  British  Gov- 
^D'  ernor  of  New  South  Wales,  has  occupied  the 
government  house  at  Sydney,  he  has  ordained  that 
at  official  receptions  only  guests  of  a  certain  rank 
shall  be  permitted  to  approach  the  presence  through 
designated  doors.  To  these  blue  tickets  are 
awarded;  to  others  of  inferior  mold,  white.  At  a 
recent  function,  through  some  mismanagement,  an 
important  public  man  received  a  blue  card,  while 
a  white  one  was  sent  to  his  wife.  When  the  pair 
reached  the  audience  chamber,  the  lady  declined  to 
be  separated  from  her  husband,  or  to  abandon  the 
aristocratic  blue  ranks.  An  aid-de-camp  endeavored 
to  reason  with  her,  and  explain  the  commotion 
that  would  ensue  if  the  blue  and  white  were  suf- 
fered to  mingle  together.  But  the  fair  one  was 
equal  to  the  occasion.  ^^  Nonsense,*^  said  she,  as 
she  pressed  forward ;  "  What  do  you  take  us  for  — 
a  seidlitz  powder  ?  *     The  aid  collapsed. 


28o  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 


HE    THOUGHT    HE    WAS    STILL    ON    LAND 

N  EASTERN  Captain  of  a  coasting--vessel  tells  a 
remarkable  story  of  a  «  green  hand,*'  an  Irish- 
man, whom  he  employed  at  a  pinch:  « When  we 
were  under  way,*  said  the  captain,  <<  I  had  a  mind 
to  try  him  on  the  lookout,  after  we  struck  clear 
water,  as  he  couldn't  tell  a  halyard  from  a  sheet- 
line.  'Long-  about  dark  I  stayed  on  deck,  the  mate 
at  the  wheel.  Pretty  soon  he  comes  aft  and  says, 
<  There's  something  foreninst  the  boat,  sorr.  >  *  What 
is  it?*  I  says.     ^I  don't  know,  sorr,*  says  the  man. 

*  Well,  go  back  and  find  out  and  report,*  I  says  then, 
and  back  he  goes.  A  few  minutes  and  back  he 
comes  aft.     ^I  don't  know  what  it  is  yet,*  he  says, 

*  but  it's  coming  this  way,  and  we  can  find  out  for 
sure  in  a  little  while.*  *  You  go  for'ard,  and  don't 
come  back  till  you  know  what  it  is,*  says  I,  getting 
mad.  He  goes  up  again,  but  is  back  again  in  a 
minute  and  all  smiling.  <Well?*  says  I.  *  If  you 
please,  sorr,  I  don't  know  for  sure  what  it  is,* 
says  he,  <  but  whatever  it  is,  it  has  a  red  light  and 
a  green  light,  and  I  think  it  must  be  a  drug-shtore.  *  ** 


ABOUT    THE    SAME 

HGiTATED  Doctor  (at  the  drug  store) —  « There's 
been  a  mistake  made  somehow.  I  thought  I 
gave  a  prescription  to  Fosterson's  little  boy  this 
morning,  but  it  seems  I  didn't.  Here  it  is  now,  in 
my  pocket.  **  Druggist's  Clerk  —  ^*  You  certainly 
gave  him  the  prescription.  I  filled  it  for  him  not 
an  hour  ago.  **  *<  Let  me  see  it  ?  **  **  Here  it  is.  ** 
**  Heavens !  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  took  that  for 
a  prescription  ?  **  *  Certainly.  Why  not  ?  **  (Sink- 
ing into  a  chair)  *  That's  a  check  from  my  Chinese 
laundryman !  ** 


OUR  FRIEND,  THE   APOTHECARY  281 

IN  A  DRUG  STORE 

Boy — «  Mister,  I  want  to  get  a  —  -urn — I  —  want 
a  pint  of— a  — thunder— I  forgot. » 

Druggist's  Clerk  — "^  Little  man,  have  you  forgot- 
ten what  you  came  for  ?  '* 

^^_y_«  That's  it!» 

Clerk  — «  What's  it  ?  » 

Boy  — **  Camphor.  >^ 

HE  KNEW  THE   LOCALITY 

Druggist  (just  opened)  — ^*  I  want  to  get  these 
two  plate-glass  windows  insured.  What  would  it 
cost  me  ?  '* 

Agent — «Well,  the  rate  would  be  two  dollars  a 
year  for  the  window  with  a  green  light  in  it,  and 
twenty  dollars  a  week  for  the  window  with  the 
orange  light  in  it.* 

A  WISE   DRUGGIST 

«  Well  sonny,  what  is  it  ? "  asked  the  drug  clerk, 
peering  over  the  counter  at  the  three-foot  mite  of 
humanity. 

«  Mammy  sent  me  to  get  a  piece  of  soap  —  cast- 
iron,  I  think  she  said.* 

<<We  don't  keep  any  summer-hotel  soap  here,* 
returned  the  clerk;  "you  must  have  mistaken  the 
metal.     Wasn't  it  Castile  ? » 


HELPING    A    GOOD    THING 

"You  told  me  to  come  and  begin  work  today,* 
said  the  new  boy. 

«  Oh,  yes,*  replied  the  druggist,  "  you  may  begin 
by  catching  flies  and  putting  them  on  those  sheets 
of  <  Sure  Catch  Flypaper  *  we're  displaying  in  the 
window.  * 


282  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

AND    SHE    TOOK    THE   CAKE 

Little  Girl — "I  wants  a  cake  of  soap." 
Drug-clerk  —  <*  Have  it  scented  ?  ** 
Little   Girl — "  No,   I  won't   have    it    sented,  I'll 
take  it  wit'  me.     We  only  live  around  de  corner.* 


TIME  2:30  A.  M. 

Druggist  —  ^^  Well,  what  is  it ;  is  it  a  case  of  ex- 
treme necessity  ?  *^ 

Caller  —  "I  —  hie  —  should  think  —  sho.  Would 
you  —  hie  —  please  let  me  look  at  —  hie  —  your  di- 
rectory 'till  I  —  hie  —  find  out  where  I  live  ?* 


THE   USUAL    REMEDIES 

Customer  —  **  I  am  troubled  with  rats  in  my 
room,  * 

Druggist  —  ^*  Yes,  sir.  Bromide  or  ammonia 
cock-tail  ?  ** 


TRADE  SECRETS 

Customer  —  '-'■  How  much  is  that  medicine  worth  ?  " 
New  Clerk  —  **  I'd  get    fired    right   out   if  I  told 
you  that    sir  ?  * 


Robert  Ford  tells  us  of  the  wife  of  a  small 
farmer  in  Perthshire  who  went  to  a  druggist  with 
two  prescriptions  to  be  filled  —  one  for  her  husband, 
the  other  for  her  cow.  Finding  she  had  not 
money  enough  to  pay  for  both,  the  druggist  asked 
her  which  one  she  would  take.  *-^  Gie  me  the  stuff 
for  the  coo, "  said  she,  "  the  morn  will  do  well 
eneuch  for  him,  puir  bodie.  Gin  he  were  to  dee  I 
could  sune  get  anither  man,  but  I'm  no  sure 
that  I  could  sae  sune  get  anither  coo." 


OUR  FRIEND,   THE   APOTHECARY  ^Sj 

<^    DRUGGIST  in  Philadelphia,  amused  at  the  style 
All     of  orders  which  were  sometimes  presented  at 
his  counter  for   medicine,  made  a   collection  of  cu- 
rious specimens.     A  few  are  herewith  given:— 
6  cents  word  spice  Ruback  (rhubarb). 
6  cents  word  crima  datoer  (cream  of  tartar). 
Gum  Rabick  (gum  arable). 
6  cents  of  exolasses  (oxalic  acid). 
Clanaide  (chlorids)  Lime  to  take  the  bad  smeel  out 
of  the  scalar. 

I_A  —did  potass  (iodide  of  potassium). 
A  fips  worth  of  Blood  Rought  (root). 
Abekack  (ipecacuanha). 
3  Sinic  A  (Seneca)  Snake  root. 
3  Pruvian  borks  (Peruvian  bark). 
3  black  Licrice  (licorice). 
3  cts  Mur. 
3  cts  Charcole. 
3  cts  Ores  root. 

A  box  of  Brandeth's  pills  or  some  kind  that  is  good 
for  clensing  the  stumech. 

Wone  ounce  of  the  Surrip  of  Epecacuanna. 
Bossom  com  pey  (balsam  of  copaiva). 
A  Botel  of  Bruster's  Coler  (cholera)  mixter. 
Gum  De  Achum  (gum  guaiacum). 

2  ownces  of  gumarrerbeck  and  2  ownces  of  Kiann 
Pepper  &  one  quart  of  alcohaW  I  want  the  Pulverised 
gumarrerbac  give  him  a  slip  of  paper  with  figers  of 
how  much  it  caust. 

please  put  the  costoc  (caustic)  in  a  quill  with  one 
Eight  of  a  inch  out. 

3  Cents  worth  of  peneroil  the  Earb. 


An  old  servant  stepped  in  and  laid  on  the 
counter  a  prescription  for  a  mixture  containing  two 
decigrammes  of  morphia.  The  chemist  weighed 
the  dangerous  medicant  with  the  utmost  care. 

« What  a  shame  !  ^>  then  said  the  old  woman, 
nudging  his  elbow.  «  Don't  be  so  near;  it  is  for 
an  orphan  girl  !  *^ 


284  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

The  daughter  of  the  blacksmith  who  **  struck 
ile  **  has  recently  become  one  of  our  fashionables. 
She  called  on  one  of  our  drug-gists  some  time 
since.     Hear  them:  — 

Daughter  —  **  Mister,  say,  have  you  got  any 
scents  ?  *^ 

Urbane  Druggist  —  '*Yes,  ma'am,  we  have  quite 
a  number  of  the  old  copper  coin,  which  we  would 
be  glad  to  get  rid  of.** 

Daughter — "Oh,  you  dry!  I  don't  mean  bung- 
tums.     I  want  some  scents  for  the   hankercher.  ** 

Urbane  Druggist  —  "Ah,  I  comprehend.  You 
wish  for  some  perfume.** 

Daughter  — "  Yes,  that's  it.  What  kind  you 
got  ?  ** 

Urbane  Druggist — "All  kinds,  madam.  Lu- 
bin's,  Harrison's,  Phalon's,  and  all  the  best  makes.** 

Daughter  —  "Oh,  I  don't  want  none  o'  them. 
Gimme  some  essence  0'  Jack  0'  Clubs  if  you  got  it. 
That's  the  kind  I  like.** 


A  MAN   WITHOUT   FRIENDS 

Customer  —  "  Have  you  anything  to  cure  a  cold  ?  ** 
Druggist  —  "  Heavens !    Have  you  no  friends  ?  '* 


Doctor — ^*  Madam,  I  may  put  your  husband  on 
his  feet  again,  but  I  fear  that  he  will  never  quite 
recover  the  complete  use  of  his  nerves.** 

Wife — "Oh,  dear,  what  has  John  been  doing  to 
bring  on  such  an  attack  ?  ** 

Doctor — "  He  has  confessed  all  to  me.  He  tells 
me  that  yesterday  he  was  rash  enough  to  drink  a 
cocktail  that  was  made  in  a  drugstore.** 

Chemist — "Pills,  eh?**  (emphasizing  question) 
"  Anti-bilious  ?  ** 

Child  (readily)  —  "  No,  sir ;  uncle  is !  " 


OUR  FRIEND,   THE  APOTHECARY  285 

Druggist  (in  alarm,  to  boy)  — "James,  run  to  Mrs. 
Smith's  at  once.     I've  made  an  awful  mistake  !  *^ 

James  (seizing  his  hat)  — ^'  Morphine  —  quinine  — 
arsenic '* 

Druggist  — "  No,  no ;  she  sent  for  ten  cents  worth 
of  one  cent  stamps,  and  I  sent  her  ten  twos  !  * 


*  Hab  yo'  any  medicine  dat  will  purify  the 
blood  ?  » 

*  Yes,  we  keep  this  sarsaparilla,  at  one  dollar  a 
bottle.  It  purifies  the  blood  and  clears  the  com- 
plexion. ** 

**  Well,  boss,  hasn't  yo'  sumfin'  fo'  about  fifty 
cents,  jess  fo'  the  blood  ?  I  don'  keer  about  de 
complexion.  * 

Customer  —  ^^  I  bought  some  medicine  here  yester- 
day for  my  dog  and  after  I  gave  it  to  him  he  died. 
What  do  you  mean  anyway  ?  I  didn't  tell  you  I 
wanted  to  kill  him.** 

Druggist  —  "  You  said  he  belonged  to  your  wife." 


Druggist — "I'm  going  to  discharge  that  new 
clerk.     He's  too  careless.'* 

Friend —  "  What  has  he  done  ?  * 

Drtiggist  —  "  This  morning  he  sold  a  wild-eyed 
woman  a  dose  of  poison  and  trusted  her  for  the 
money.  * 


A  YANKEE  peddler  in  his  cart,  overtaking  another, 
asked  him  what  he  was  carrying.  "Drugs,**  was 
the  reply.  "  Go  ahead,  **  said  the  former ;  "  I  carry 
tombstones.  * 


"  That  druggist  must  get  good  returns  from  his 
soda  fountain.** 

"  Yes ;  as  soon  as  you  drink  a  glass  of  his  soda- 
water  you  want  some  medicine.** 


THE  FAMILY 


Health  to  the  art  whose  glory  is  to  give 

The  crowning  boon  that  makes  it  life  to  live. 

—  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  «A  Modest  Request." 


THE    FAMILY    PHYSICIAN 

'N  ALL  enlightened  communities  the 
greater  number  of  families  have 
a  medical  man  who  occupies  to- 
ward them  the  relation  expressed 
by  the  term  family  physician.  It 
is  the  purpose  of  this  article  to 
examine  as  to  what  is,  and  to 
suggest  what  should  be,  included 
in  this  relation. 

The  family  physician  is  the  medical  man  to  whom 
the  family  are  accustomed  to  apply  when  they  sup- 
pose themselves  to  be  in  need  of  medical  assistance. 
In  rural  communities  he  is  generally  accepted  in 
this  relation  rather  than  selected  to  occupy  it,  for 
the  reason  that  there  is  probably  only  one  doctor 
within  reaching  distance.  This  fact  also  makes  his 
tenure  of  oflfice  secure,  unless,  indeed  he  displays 
extraordinary  unfitness.  But  in  towns  and  cities 
there  is  abundant  opportunity  for  selection  and  also 
for  change.  The  basis  upon  which  the  choice  is 
made  is  oftener  a  matter  of  accident  than  the  re- 
sult of  a  careful  inquiry  as  to  the  qualifications.  A 
physician  is  selected  because  some  friend  has  him; 
or  because  he  belongs  to  the  same  church;  or  be- 
cause he  drives  a  handsome  equipage  and  seems  to 
be  doing  a  large  business;  or  because  he  lives  in 
the  same  street.  Very  rarely  indeed  is  it  because 
(286) 


THE  FAMILY  287 

he  has  been  thoroughly  educated  in  his  profession, 
because  he  possesses  a  sound  and  trained  judgment 
and  a  wide  experience,  because  he  realizes  the  re- 
sponsibility of  his  position,  because  he  has  a  deep 
and  tender  sympathy  with  suffering  humanity,  and 
believes  that  the  noblest  secular  work  a  man  can 
do  is  ministering  to  its  needs.  In  fact  in  the 
majority  of  cases  less  thought  is  bestowed  upon 
choosing  for  the  family  the  man  who  is  to  have 
the  power  possibly  of  life,  certainly  of  death,  than 
upon  hiring  a  butler  or  buying  a  pair  of  horses. 

The  relation  thus  lightly  entered  upon  is  apt 
to  be  as  lightly  discontinued.  The  most  trivial  cir- 
cumstances may  induce  a  change.  An  illness 
proves  more  protracted  then  it  was  thought  it 
would  be,  and  some  friend,  with  an  enviable  sense 
of  propriety,  suggests:  « Why  don't  you  have  my 
doctor?  He  would  put  you  on  your  feet  in  no 
time.'^  ^^  Dr.  Q.  has  just  cured  Mrs.  B.'s  child 
of  exactly  what  your  boy  has.  Why  don't  you 
call  him  in  ?  '*  And  so  it  may  come  about  that 
the  doctor  is  changed  with  very  little  more  cere- 
mony than  is  employed  in  substituting  one  coach- 
man for  another. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  relation  however  begun, 
often  grows  to  be  one  of  the  strongest  ties  that 
bind  man  and  man.  The  position  which  a  con- 
scientious, sympathetic  physician  holds  in  an  ap- 
preciative family  may  be  higher  than  that  of  near 
kindred  or  of  life-long  friends.  His  aid  and  support 
in  moments  of  supreme  necessity  may  win  for  him 
a  devotion  such  as  seldom  falls  to  the  lot  of  other 
men.  In  the  course  of  a  long  professional  life  he 
may  be  a  sharer  of  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  suc- 
cessive generations,  all  of  whom  hold  him  in  the 
most  affectionate  esteem. 

But  even  when  this  is  the  case  the  position  of 
the  family  physician  lacks  something  that  if  pres- 
ent   would   enhance    immeasurably    his    power   for 


288  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

good.  He  is  the  counsellor  only  when  illness  is 
present;  he  is  called  upon  only  when  the  patient 
or  family  think  he  is  needed.  His  work  is  to  at- 
tend upon  the  particular  case  of  disease  or  injury, 
and  this  done  he  retires  until  his  services  are 
thought  again  to  be  required.  Thus  he  exercises 
his  functions  only  at  the  discretion  of  persons  who, 
however  intelligent  they  may  be,  are  not  qualified 
to  recognize  in  every  case  the  necessity  for  medical 
aid.  Hence  it  often  happens  that  disease  has  al- 
ready advanced  to  an  extent  that  involves  serious 
if  not  fatal  consequences  before  it  is  discovered 
that  the  person  is  really  ill. 

In  acute  cases  it  may  not  always  be  possible  to 
avoid  this,  but  even  in  chronic  disease  the  time  for 
effectual  aid  not  unfrequently  passes  before  it  is 
thought  worth  while  to  summon  the  doctor,  A 
cough  is  regarded  as  a  simple  cold,  and  is  treated 
with  domestic  remedies,  often  of  the  kind  to  dis- 
order the  digestion,  upon  which  all  hope  of  cure 
must  ultimately  depend.  After  a  time  the  very 
persistence  of  the  cough  compels  recourse  to  medical 
advice,  when  it  is  ascertained  for  the  first  time 
that  the  lungs  are  the  seat  of  tubercular  disease. 

Or,  again,  a  person  after  a  period  of  more  or 
less  languor  or  of  feeling  indefinitely  ill,  observes 
that  the  ankles  are  swollen.  The  doctor  is  called, 
and  it  is  discovered  that  disorganization  of  the  kid- 
neys is  far  advanced,  so  that  the  best  the  patient 
can  hope  for  is  a  longer  or  shorter  postponement 
of  the  inevitably  fatal  termination. 

Examples  of  this  kind  could  be  multiplied  in- 
definitely. They  merely  show  that  the  present 
relation  of  the  family  physician  to  his  families, 
even  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  does 
not  permit  him  to  render  services  which  might  be 
of  the  utmost  value.  It  sometimes  requires  as 
much  technical  skill  to  determine  when  treatment 
is  necessary  as   to  carry  out   the   treatment  itself. 


THE   FAMILY  389 

Yet,  tinder  existing  conditions,  this  skill  is  required 
to  be  exercised  by  persons  who  lay  no  claim  to  its 
possession.  This  results  not  only  in  depriving  the 
sick  of  the  timely  aid  they  might  receive  but  at 
the  same  time  it  exposes  medicine  to  reproach  for  an 
efficiency  which  is  the  fault  not  so  much  of  the  art 
as  the  conditions  under  which  it  is  practised. 

The  achievements  of  practical  medicine  handi- 
capped in  this  manner  are  not  such  and  cannot  be 
such,  as  to  command  for  it  the  fullest  measure  of 
popular  confidence.  It  stands  before  the  public 
merely  as  aspiring  to  relieve  existing  suffering,  to 
remove  existing  disease.  The  scope  of  its  aim  is 
indicated  by  the  name  it  bears  —  the  Science  of 
Medicine,  as  if  the  giving  of  medicine  were  its 
principal  function.  It  does  not  seem  to  appreciate 
that  a  wider  field  is  before  it,  that  there  is  a  higher 
office  also  which  it  should  aim  to  fulfil.  There  is 
a  science,  as  yet  not  well  defined,  which  has  for  its 
object  the  promotion  of  the  physical  well  being  of 
the  race.  Instead  of  representing  a  mere  fragment 
of  this  science,  medicine  should  aspire  to  embrace 
the  whole.  This  is  its  legitimate  sphere,  which  it 
ought  in  practice  and  in  theory  to  occupy. 

The  necessary  limitations  to  success  in  the  nar- 
rower field  give  the  general  aspect  of  failure.  Men 
must  die,  and  the  art  which  opposes  itself  to  this 
fiat  cannot  build  much  upon  its  ultimate  triumphs. 
But  in  the  broader  field  the  limitations  to  success 
are  not  so  inflexibly  defined.  We  are  not  so  con- 
stantly confronted  with  the  impossible;  there  is 
more  room  for  demonstrable  achievement.  It  pre- 
sents stronger  claims,  therefore,  to  public  recogni- 
tion and  public  confidence.  And  this  is  just  what 
the  medicine  of  to-day  is  lacking.  It  is  a  patent 
fact  that  the  medical  profession  does  not  exert  in 
the  community  that  influence  which  would  seem  to 
be  its  right  by  virtue  of  the  important  interests 
with  which  it  is  intrusted. 

P.L.H. — 19 


29©  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

A  successful  lawyer  is  known  far  beyond  the 
circle  in  which  he  lives.  He  is  looked  to  for  ad- 
vice and  assistance  in  all  cases  of  public  necessity. 
He  is  expected  to  take  a  prominent  part  in  every 
public  movement.  His  personality  is  stamped  upon 
local  contemporaneous  history.  The  same  is  true 
of  men  eminent  in  letters,  in  science,  in  theology, 
in  finance.  They  are  regarded  as  natural  leaders, 
the  framers  of  public  opinion,  the  exponents  of  the 
sentiments  of  the  day. 

But  let  a  medical  man  be  ever  so  eminent  in 
his  profession,  it  gives  him  prominence  only  among 
medical  men.  His  writings  may  be  in  every  medi- 
cal library,  but  his  name  will  never  appear  in  a 
secular  paper.  He  may  have  a  host  of  devoted 
friends,  but  not  one  of  them  ever  thinks  of  nam- 
ing him  for  a  public  position.  Even  the  hospitals, 
which  are  dependent  upon  him  to  carry  out  the 
object  for  which  they  are  organized,  ignore  his  ex- 
istence when  making  up  their  boards  of  manage- 
ment. The  local  board  of  health,  if  asking  him  to 
be  a  member,  will  put  a  layman  over  him  as  pres- 
ident. In  fact  no  one  thinks  of  him  as  doing  any- 
thing but  writing  prescriptions,  with  the  occasional 
variation  of  hewing  off  a  limb  or  cutting  out  a 
tumor. 

And  yet  the  education  and  life  training  of  medi- 
cal men  should  fit  them  pre-eminently  to  fill  posi- 
tions of  public  trust  and  influence.  No  one  comes 
in  contact  with  a  greater  variety  of  character  and 
social  position;  no  one  has  a  better  opportunity  to 
look  human  nature  through  and  through ;  no  one  is 
required  to  think  more  accurately,  to  judge  more 
correctly,  to  decide  more  promptly;  no  one  sees 
more  behind  the  scenes  in  the  great  drama  of  life; 
no  one  knows  more  of  the  hidden  springs  of  the 
public  weal  and  woe;  no  one  gathers  into  his  own 
brain  more  of  the  experience  of  others.  And  if  we 
look  to  the    magnitude    and   the   importance  of  the 


THE   FAMILY  29^ 

inteiests  he  represents,  no  one  has  more  of  a  re- 
sponsibility resting  on  him.  No  one  has  to  admin- 
ister more  sacred  trusts;  no  one  has  more  of 
happiness  or  misery  depending  upon  his  capacity 
and  fidehty. 

All  these  considerations,  however,  are  no   more 
applicable  to  the  family  physician  to-day  than  they 
have  been  in  the   past.      But   there    is    a    factor  of 
comparatively  recent   origin    which   has   materially 
changed    his    position,    weakening    it    in  one   way, 
strengthening  it   in  another.      This  is   the  develop- 
ment   of    specialties    in    medicine.      Formerly    the 
family  physician  was  the  sole  arbiter  of  his  patient's 
fate.     Now  there  is  an  opportunity  for  appeal ;  nay, 
the    appellate    judge    is   fast    becoming   the    one  of 
primary  jurisdiction.     The   practice   of    medicine  is 
now  divided  into  as   many  specialties   as    there  are 
different  sets  of  organs  in  the  body,  or  rather  into 
more,  for  there  are  specialties    based  upon  the  age 
of  the  patient  as  well    as  upon  the    organ  affected. 
It  will  readily  be  seen  that  amid  all  these  claimants 
for  pathological  territory  there  is  scarcely  standing- 
room  left  for  the  general  practitioner. 

But  these  specialties  do  not  exist  without  rea- 
son. The  field  of  medicine  is  so  vast  that  no  one 
can  cultivate  it  adequately  in  every  part.  But  by 
confining  himself  within  comparatively  narrow  lim- 
its the  specialist  may  become  completely  master 
of  what  is  known    on    the    subject   with    which    he 

deals. 

Out  of  the  practice  of  specialties  grow  special 
hospitals,  which  attract  patients  from  all  parts  of 
the  adjacent  country,  and  often  also  from  great  dis- 
tances, and  thus  are  brought  together  examples  of 
those  rarer  affections  which  otherwise  would  be  seen 
scarcely  twice  in  a  lifetime.  The  opportunity  thus 
afforded  for  studying  a  single  class  of  diseases  on  an 
enormous  scale  is  eagerly  embraced  by  the  attend- 
ing  physicians   or   surgeons,  and   he    must   be  dull 


292  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

indeed  who  cannot  thus  acquire  in  a  few  months 
more  experience  in  his  particular  line  than  would 
fall  to  the  lot  of  the  general  practitioner  in  the 
course  of  his  whole  professional  career. 

Moreover  for  the  practice  of  most  of  the  spe- 
cialties a  very  extensive  and  costly  array  of  instru- 
ments and  appliances  is  required,  which  the  general 
practitioner  could  not  afford  to  own  and  keep  in 
order  for  the  small  number  of  cases  of  each  class 
for  which  he  would  employ  them. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  a  necessity  exists  for 
specialties  in  medicine,  and  that  they  are  capable 
of  rendering  vast  service  to  the  public.  But  they 
are  by  no  means  an  unmixed  good,  at  least  as 
they  are  now  too  often  practiced.  Like  every- 
thing else  that  is  good,  they  are  liable  to  abuse. 
And  this  abuse  results  in  harm  to  the  public,  to 
the  family  doctor,  and  to  the  whole  body  of  med- 
icine. 

Particularly  in  the  cities,  where  specialties  of 
every  variety  are  easily  accessible,  it  is  becoming 
more  and  more  the  habit  of  patients  to  resort  to 
them  independently,  if  only  the  locality  of  the  dis- 
ease is  sufficiently  plain  to  indicate  to  what  specialty 
it  belongs.  When  this  is  not  the  case  the  family 
physician  is  called  upon  to  supply  the  necessary 
information,  and  as  a  return  of  courtesy  he  may 
be  asked  to  indicate  the  specialist  to  whom  he 
would  be  most  willing  to  have  the  case  consigned. 

But  the  latter  is  without  a  knowledge  of  the 
history  of  the  ailment  or  of  the  previous  treat- 
ment, and  therefore  the  case  comes  before  him 
without  any  of  the  side  lights  which  previous 
knowledge  of  the  patient  would  supply.  More 
than  one  organ  may  be  affected,  and  the  disease 
in  one  may  have  a  causual  relation  to  that  in  the 
other.  For  example,  as  little  as  the  eyes  seem  to 
be  related  to  the  kidneys,  disease  in  the  former  is 
often     the    result    of    disease    in    the   latter,    and 


THE  FAMILY  293 

the  only  treatment  possible  for  the  eye  affec- 
tion must  be  addressed  to  the  kidneys.  On 
the  other  hand  very  serious  nervous  disturbances 
have  their  origin  in  defects  of  the  eye,  and  can  be 
relieved  only  by  correcting  the  ocular  trouble. 
And  so  throughout  the  body  there  is  scarcely  a 
single  organ  which  suffers  alone,  or  whose  ail- 
ments can  be  successfully  treated  without  taking 
into  account  its  pathological  relations  to  other  or- 
gans. Hence  the  specialist  is  not  in  a  position  to 
take  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  case.  For  al- 
though a  specialist,  to  be  in  any  degree  successful, 
must  be  grounded  in  general  medicine,  yet  the 
fact  that  he  is  specially  familiar  with  one  class  of 
disease  implies  almost  of  necessity  a  corresponding 
unfamiliarity  with  disease  in  general. 

When  to  these  considerations  is  added  the  very 
common  complication  of  two  or  more  specialists 
attending  the  same  patient  at  the  same  time  for 
different  diseases,  each  one  perhaps  in  ignorance 
of  what  other  treatment  is  being  employed,  the 
incongruity  of  the  situation  is  sufficiently  apparent. 

The  disadvantage  of  the  general  practitioner  re- 
sulting from  the  abuse  referred  to  grows  out  of  his 
apparent  subordination  to  the  specialist.  The 
superior  skill  of  the  latter,  though  limited  to  a  nar- 
rower field,  gives  him  for  the  time  being  a  prom- 
inence which  reacts  unfavorably  upon  the  position 
of  the  family  doctor.  His  dictum,  based  perhaps 
upon  a  very  imperfect  view  of  the  case  as  a  whole, 
is  a  stumbling-block  over  which  the  family  physi- 
cian, ignorant  of  precisely  what  has  been  told  his 
patient,  is  liable  to  fall  at  every  step.  The  latter 
has  the  mortification  of  seeing  his  confidence  which 
he  formally  inspired  in  part  withdrawn,  and  as  a 
consequence  he  becomes  disgusted  and  indifferent. 
As  a  result,  it  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  that  a 
professional  relation  which  had  existed  for  years  to 


294  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

the  entire  satisfaction  of  both  parties  is  brought 
to  a  close. 

A  very  natural  consequence  of  this  is  a  feeling 
of  antagonism  on  the  part  of  the  general  practi- 
tioner against  specialism  and  specialists  which  may- 
incline  him  to  withold  from  his  patients  the  benefit 
which  superior  skill  might  confer.  The  patients, 
preceiving  this,  are  the  more  ready  to  seek  such 
aid  independently,  and  thus  the  original  cause  of 
dissatisfaction  is  aggravated. 

From  the  operation  of  such  causes,  to  which 
may  be  added  in  many  cases  ignorance  or  negli- 
gence, it  often  happens  that  the  favorable  time  for 
a  treatment  of  a  disease  has  passed  by  before  the 
case  is  brought  to  the  notice  of  a  specialist.  Doubt- 
less very  many  eyes  are  lost  because  the  family 
doctor  does  not  appreciate  early  the  seriousness  of 
the  disease,  or  is  unwilling  to  call  in  the  aid  of  a 
specialist.  Many  a  case  of  deafness  might  have 
been  prevented  by  the  adoption  of  proper  treat- 
ment before  the  inflammation  had  resulted  in 
structural  change.  And  so  through  all  the  special- 
ties cases  very  frequently  occur  in  which  the  delay 
resulting  from  ignorance,  carelessness,  or  unwill- 
ingness on  the  part  of  the  family  doctor  makes  the 
task  of  the  specialist  doubly  difficult  or  entirely 
hopeless. 

But  it  is  not  always  or  generally  true  that  the 
family  doctor  is  altogether  responsible  for  such  re- 
sults. The  mischief  is  often  done  before  the  case 
comes  to  his  notice.  He  is  not  at  liberty,  accord- 
ing to  existing  notions,  to  look  for  patients  among 
those  for  whom  his  aid  is  not  specially  requested ;  and 
the  patient,  or,  in  the  case  of  a  child,  the  parents, 
cannot  be  expected  in  every  instance  to  appreciate 
at  once  that  a  condition  is  present  which  demands 
professional  attention.  It  is  just  here  that  a  gap 
exists  which  the  one   party  may  not  and  the  other 


THE   FAMILY  295 

cannot  bridge  over.  But  it  is  a  wrong  to  be  righted 
nevertheless. 

The  tendency  of  specialism  when  pursued  in- 
dependently and  without  reference  to  the  family 
practitioner  is  to  lower  the  tone  and  diminish  the 
influence  of  medicine  as  a  whole.  For  medicine 
can  be  a  power  in  the  world  only  as  it  is  repre- 
sented by  the  general  practitioner.  The  specialist 
operates  along  a  single  line,  and  the  lines  of  the 
several  specialists  are  ever  divergent.  There  is 
lacking  among  them  that  element  of  cohesion  which 
binds  medicine  together  as  a  homogeneous  if  not 
always  a  harmonious  whole,  and  which  gives  unity 
and  definiteness  to  its  common  aims.  And,  further- 
more, specialists  have  to  do  with  a  constantly  chang- 
ing clientele,  and  lack  entirely  the  opportunity  for 
continuous  influence.  They  cannot  impress  them- 
selves on  their  calling  upon  patients  whom  they 
see  to-day  and  loose  sight  of  to-morrow.  And 
again  being  concerned  with  the  relief  of  existing 
disease,  they  take  little  cognizance  of  the  broader 
field  already  alluded  to,  which  it  is  the  proper  prov- 
ince of  medicine  to  cultivate. 

Within  recent  years  the  development  of  medicine 
has  looked  especially  toward  the  prevention  of  dis- 
eases. The  microscope,  with  its  greatly  increased 
powers,  is  ever  busy  searching  out  the  agents  of 
infection.  A  marvellous  success  has  attended  these 
researches.  One  by  one  the  specific  germs  of  very 
many  of  the  infective  diseases  have  been  discovered, 
and  their  casual  relation  to  the  disease  demonstrated. 
The  germs  taken  from  a  diseased  person  have  been 
isolated  and  cultivated  in  successive  crops  without 
the  body.  These  artificially  cultivated  germs,  of 
perhaps  the  third  or  fourth  generation,  have  then 
been  inoculated  into  the  bodies  of  animals,  and 
have  produced  in  them  the  original  disease.  Every 
few  months  a  new  discovery  of  this  nature  is  an- 
nounced, and   doubtless   the    time   is   near    at  hand 


296  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

when  the  germ  of  each    infectious   disease    will   be 
recognized  and  described. 

The  problem,  therefore,  is  not  only  to  destroy 
these  germs  when  they  are  present  in  the  system, 
but  much  more  to  prevent  their  affecting  a  lodgment 
within  the  body.  When  this  can  be  done  the  task 
of  preventive  medicine  will  be  completed  so  far  as 
this  class  of  diseases  is  concerned.  The  sources  of 
other  forms  of  disease,  however,  will  have  to  be 
guarded  against,  and  the  question  is  at  once  one  of 
the  most  complex  and  one  of  the  most  important 
which  can  engage  the  human  mind.  To  its  eluci- 
dation must  be  brought  the  researches  of  the  lab- 
oratory, the  labours  of  the  meteorologist,  and  after 
all  and  above  all  the  practical  experience  and  ob- 
servation of  the  medical  practitioner.  And  in  this 
the  family  doctor  must  take  the  lead.  It  is  he 
alone  who  can  have  such  access  to  the  primary 
facts  in  each  case  as  is  necessary  in  order  to  trace 
out  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  in  the  produc- 
tion of  disease.  In  this  the  specialist,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  can  afford  him  but  little  aid. 

Whatever  advance,  then,  is  made  in  developing 
medicine  into  a  farther  reaching  and  more  efficient 
agency  for  the  benefit  of  mankind  —  an  agency 
that  shall  attempt  more  than  the  relief  of  present 
suffering  or  the  cure  of  present  disease  —  must 
come  chiefly  from  the  efforts  of  the  general  prac- 
titioner. 

Descartes  has  said,  <'  If  it  be  possible  to  perfect 
the  human  race  it  is  in  medicine  that  we  must 
seek  the  means.  *^  While  not  looking  forward  to 
the  perfection  to  which  he  refers,  we  may  well 
believe  that  whatever  progress  is  made  toward  it 
will  be  worked  out  essentially  through  the  agency 
which  he  indicates. 

But  in  order  that  the  best  results  may  be 
reached,  a  change  is  necessary  in  the  relation  of  the 
family   physician    to   the    families    under    his   care. 


THE   FAMILY  297 

The  defects  in  it  to  which  brief  allusion  has  been 
made  must  be  removed.  First  of  all  the  relation 
must  have  a  more  rational  and  a  more  permanent 
basis.  There  should  be  full  recognition  that  it  im- 
plies obligations  on  both  sides;  the  obligation  on 
the  one  side  of  the  physician  to  do  everything  in 
his  power,  at  all  times  and  under  all  circumstances, 
not  only  to  relieve  sickness  when  it  occurs,  but 
to  prevent  its  occurrence,  and  the  obligation  on 
the  side  of  the  family  to  be  loyal  to  the  physician, 
to  give  him  their  complete  confidence,  to  permit  to 
him  the  fullest  access  to  their  history  in  the  past 
and  their  lives  in  the  present,  and  to  respect  his  judg- 
ment, and  so  far  as  possible  to  be  guided  by  it  in  all 
matters  pertaining  to  his  professional  relation  to  them. 

The  first  effect  of  a  formal  recognition  of  these 
obligations  would  be  that  the  family  physician 
would  be  selected  with  more  care.  His  qualifica- 
tions of  mind  and  heart,  of  skill  and  experience, 
would  be  carefully  inquired  into,  and  the  choice 
once  made  would  have  the  elements  of  perma- 
nence. It  would  not  be  sacrificed  to  a  momentary 
feeling  of  annoyance  or  a  hysterical  impatience  of 
plain  speaking.  And  should  a  death  occur  in  the 
family,  after  every  means  to  avert  it  had  been  faith- 
fully applied,  the  bitterness  of  grief  would  not  find 
vent  in  unmerited  censure,  nor  disappointment  at 
the  result  lead  to  withdrawal  of  confidence. 

And  thus  day  by  day  the  bond  would  become 
more  closely  drawn,  the  physician  requiring  more 
and  more  that  familiarity  with  the  characteristics 
of  each  member  of  the  family  which  would  enable 
him  to  detect  the  slightest  aberration  from  the 
standard  of  health,  and  the  family  learning  more 
and  more  to  trust  in  the  wisdom  and  skill  and  de- 
votion of  the  physician.  A  relation  established  on 
such  a  basis  would  probably  continue  during  the 
whole  professional  life  of  the  practitioner,  and  in- 
clude more  than  the  first  generation  of  his  clients. 


298  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

The  family  physician,  if  fitted  for  his  office, 
would  have  such  a  general  knowledge  of  all  the 
specialties  as  would  enable  him  to  decide  promptly 
upon  the  necessity  for  special  treatment  that  might 
arise.  Such  a  necessity  existing,  he  would  be  the 
first  to  suggest  the  employment  of  a  specialist,  and 
his  knowledge  of  the  different  men  available  would 
enable  him  to  select  the  right  one.  To  the  special- 
ist he  would  give  a  full  history  of  the  case  and  of 
the  previous  treatment,  and  there  being  perfect  ac- 
cord between  them,  the  special  treatment  would  go 
in  harmony  with  the  general  management.  There 
would  be  no  clashing,  no  jealousy,  each  one  recog- 
nizing and  respecting  the  province  of  the  other,  and 
thus  the  best  attainable  results  would  be  secured. 
This  would  be  a  long  step  forward  in  preventive 
medicine,  in  the  sense  of  preventing  the  serious 
consequences  which  flow  from  the  lack  of  such  co- 
operation between  the  family  physician  and  the 
specialist. 

But  in  order  that  the  prevention  of  disease,  so 
far  as  it  lies  with  the  family  physician,  may  be 
carried  to  the  fullest  extent,  it  is  essential  that  he 
should  have  constant  opportunity  to  know  just 
what  is  the  physical  condition  of  each  member  of 
the  family  in  the  absence  of  any  manifest  evidence 
of  disease.  To  this  end  periodical  examinations 
should  be  made  of  such  a  character  as  to  reveal 
any  lurking  morbid  tendency  without  waiting  for 
its  development  into  actual  disease.  There  should 
be  no  such  thing  as  a  discoverable  affection  re- 
maining undiscovered.  Death  from  unsuspected 
heart  or  kidney  disease,  for  example,  should  cease 
to  be  possible.  There  should  be  no  more  histories 
like  the  following,  now  so  frequently  repeated :  — 

A  person  supposed  to  be  in  good  health  in  hast- 
ening along  the  street,  perhaps  hurrying  to  catch 
a  train.  All  at  once  is  seen  to  stagger  and  fall. 
Passers-by  rush   to  his    assistance,  but   he    gasps  a 


THE  FAMILY  299 

few  times,  and  before  any  aid  can  be  rendered  he 
is  dead.  An  autopsy  reveals  that  he  had  fatty  de- 
generation of  the  heart,  and  the  extra  demand 
made  upon  the  heart  by  the  unusual  exertion  was 
more  than  its  enfeebled  walls  could  respond  to.  He 
was  not  aware  of  the  existence  of  this  condition, 
but  if  his  doctor  had  merely  laid  his  finger  upon 
the  pulse  his  suspicion  would  have  been  aroused, 
and  listening  to  the  heart  would  immediately  have 
confirmed  it.  By  proper  treatment  and  the  avoid- 
ance of  severe  exertion  the  catastrophe  might  have 
been  averted  for  many  years,  and  the  usual  limit 
of  life  might  perhaps  have  been  obtained. 

Or  again,  a  gentleman  who  has  thought  himself 
quite  well  goes  as  usual  in  the  morning  to  his 
place  of  business.  A  few  hours  later  he  is  brought 
home  in  a  carriage  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness. 
In  spite  of  the  most  prompt  and  judicious  treat- 
ment he  does  not  recover  from  his  coma.  Unknown 
to  him  or  to  his  family  he  has  been  suffering  from 
Bright's  disease,  the  symptoms  being  latent  up  to 
the  last  moment.  Yet  a  very  simple  examination 
would  have  revealed  to  his  doctor  the  actual  con- 
dition of  affairs,  and  by  proper  care  and  by  proper 
treatment  the  fatal  termination  might  have  been 
almost  indefinitely  deferred.^ 

The  records  of  examinations  by  the  physicians 
of  life-insurance  companies  show  numerous  in- 
stances in  which  very  serious  disease  exists  with- 
out being  suspected  either  by  the  patient  or  his 
friends. 

This  fact,  in  addition  to  the  frequency  of  cases 
such  as  those  described  above,  is  enough  to  show 
the  extreme  importance  of  a  system  by  which 
the  actual  condition  of  persons  not  consciously  ill 
should  be  periodically  investigated. 

In  view  of  this  it  should  be  a  part  of  the  duty 
of  the  family  physician  to  make  a  thorough  physical 
examination  of  every  member  of  the  family  at  least 


300  THE   DOCTOR'S   LEISURE   HOUR 

twice  a  year,  and  in  the  case  of  a  feeble  or  delicate 
person  at  much  shorter  intervals.  The  results  of 
these  examinations  should  be  fully  recorded,  and 
the  record  kept  in  the  possession  of  the  doctor,  to 
be  transmitted  to  his  successor.  A  record  of  this 
kind  would  possess  immense  value,  not  only  for  the 
persons  immediately  interested,  but  also  for  their 
posterity.  It  is  by  knowing  the  vital  history  of 
the  parents  that  we  know  what  to  expect  of  the 
children.  Heredity  is  an  influence  which  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  estimate,  for  the  reason  that  the  absence 
of  records  prevents  our  tracing  it  backward  in  the 
family  history.  Yet  we  know  that  this  influence 
may  shape  the  physical  destiny  of  generations  to 
come.  Dr.  Holmes  has  said  that  the  proper  time  to 
begin  the  treatment  of  some  diseases  is  a  hundred 
years  before  the  birth  of  the  patient.  He  might 
have  added  that  the  treatment  sometimes  needs  to 
be  continued  for  a  hundred  years  after  his  death. 

But  the  opportunity  afForded  to  the  family  phy- 
sician to  ward  off  injurious  influences  from  those 
under  his  care  might  be  extended  much  farther.  It 
should  be  within  his  province  to  indicate  what  oc- 
cupations were  suitable  to  a  given  youth,  and  what, 
in  the  interests  of  his  health,  should  be  avoided. 
He  should  be  able  to  prevent  a  feeble,  ill-nourished, 
narrow-chested  lad  being  put  behind  a  desk  in  a 
counting-room,  where  the  tendency  to  pulmonary 
disease  already  existing  would  certainly  be  devel- 
oped. He  should  have  such  a  voice  in  the  selection 
of  boarding-schools  as  would  prevent  the  children 
being  sent  to  institutions  in  unhealthy  localities,  or 
in  which  there  was  danger  from  defective  sanitary 
precautions.  In  the  selection  of  a  new  dwelling, 
and  even  in  choosing  a  summer  resort,  his  judg- 
ment as  to  the  topography  and  the  sanitary  con- 
ditions should  have  a  controlling  influence.  His 
supervision  should  extend  to  a  proper  adaptation  of 
educational   methods  to  the   capabilities  of  the  sev- 


THE   FAMILY  30I 

eral  children  of  the  family,  and  to  the  order  in 
which  their  faculties  develop.  On  this  latter  point 
it  is  high  time  that  the  influence  of  medicine  should 
be  felt  in  pedagogics.  Mental  physiology  should 
lie  at  the  foundation  of  every  school  curriculum. 
It  is  incongruous  that  at  this  age  of  the  world  the 
development  of  the  mind  should  be  intrusted  un- 
reservedly to  those  who  have  not  even  the  most  ele- 
mentary knowledge  of  the  mind's  organ,  the  brain. 

«  A  manufacturer  would  not  intrust  his  steam-engine 
to  the  care  of  one  who  knew  nothing  about  machinery; 
yet  how  many  parents  submit  the  finest  mechanism  on 
earth  — a  mechanism  so  fine  that,  once  seriously  dis- 
abled, no  human  engineer  can  repair,  their  children's 
brains  —  to  those  who  have  neither  knowledge,  sym- 
pathy, nor  training  for  the  task.* 

—  Galloway,  ^'^  Education  Scientific  and  Technical?'* 

In  a  hundred  other  ways,  which  the  limits  of 
this  article  forbid  to  specify,  the  influence  of  the 
family  physician  should  make  itself  felt  in  the 
household.  But  it  should  not  stop  here.  The 
human  race  is  a  family,  and  the  medical  pro- 
fession should  be  its  family  physician.  The  same 
protecting  care  which  is  required  in  the  household 
should  be  extended  to  the  state.  As  the  individual 
may  not  safely  be  left  without  supervision  until 
the  disease  is  actually  upon  him,  so  the  community 
may  not  safely  be  left  unguarded  until  the  advent 
of  the  pestilence. 

As  the  sanitary  condition  of  the  dwelling  re- 
quires constant  watchfulness,  so  the  sanitary  condi- 
tions of  towns  and  cities  may  not  be  neglected 
with  impunity.  As  personal  habit  both  of  body 
and  mind  affect  the  physical  well-being  of  their 
possessor,  so  national  habits  of  life  and  thought 
affect  for  good  or  ill  the  physical  development  of 
a  people. 

These  considerations  open  up  vast  problems 
which  it  is  the   province  of   medicine  to  solve.     In 


302  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

their  solution  the  family  physician  must  bear  his 
part,  and  his  fitness  to  do  so  will  depend  largely 
upon  the  closeness  of  his  relation  to  his  families; 
the  extent  to  which  he  comes  in  touch  with  their 
daily  life.  In  proportion  as  its  influence  permeates 
the  general  family  life,  in  that  proportion  medicine 
will  find  a  wider  field  of  usefulness  opening  before 
it,  and  on  the  basis  of  higher  achievement  will  com- 
mand a  greater  measure  of  respect  and  confidence. 

To  recapitulate  briefly.  It  belongs  to  the  office 
of  the  family  physician  to  know  fully  the  medical 
history  of  the  family;  to  keep  himself  constantly 
informed  as  to  the  physical  condition  of  each 
member;  to  advise  as  to  education,  choice  of  oc- 
cupation, residence,  and  whatever  else  may  have 
an  influence,  present  or  prospective  upon  condi- 
tions of  health;  to  apply  all  the  means  which 
science  affords  for  the  prevention  of  disease;  to 
treat  such  cases  of  illness  as  may  arise,  employing 
freely  the  aid  of  specialists  whenever  necessary; 
and  lastly,  to  regard  the  experience  which  he  ac- 
cumulates as  a  trust  to  be  used  for  the  benefit  of 
the  public  in  initiating  and  furthering  such  meas- 
ures as  will  advance  the  physical  welfare  of  the 
community. 

That  this  enlargement  of  his  sphere  will  de- 
mand greater  capacity  and  increased  powers  on  the 
part  of  the  physician  goes  without  saying.  But  the 
rising  generation  of  medical  men,  in  this  country 
at  least,  is  furnishing  many  who  are  fully  equipped 
to  meet  this  demand.  Every  year  the  standard  of 
medical  education  is  higher,  and  the  profession  has 
now  in  its  ranks  numbers  of  young  men  whose 
peers  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  in  any  other 
body.  In  their  hands  the  office  of  the  family  phy- 
sician cannot  fail  to  become  every  year  more  use- 
ful and  more  honored,  until  it  shall  stand  first 
among  the  secular  influences  which  promote  the 
welfare  of  the  race.  —Dr.  Andrew  H.  Smith. 


AT  THE  BEGINNING 


Wkere  children  are,  there  is  the  golden  age. 

— Novalis. 


A  CHRISTMAS  GUEST 

A  Monologue 

BOY,  you  say,  doctor  ?  An'  she  don't 
know  it  yet  ?  Then  what're  you  tellin' 
me  for?  No,  sir  —  take  it  away.  I 
don't  want  to  lay  my  eyes  on  it  tell 
she's  saw  it  —  not  ef  I  am  its  father. 
She's  its  mother,   I  reckon! 

Better  lay  it  down  somew'eres  an' 
go  to  her  —  not  there  on  the  rockin'- 
cheer,  for  somebody  to  set  on  —  'n'  not  on  the 
trunk,  please.  That  ain't  none  o'  yo'  ord'nary  new- 
born bundles,  to  be  dumped  on  a  box  that'll  maybe 
be  opened  sudden  d'rec'ly  for  somethin'  needed,  an' 
be  dropped  ag'in'  the  wall-paper  behind  it. 
It's  hers  whether  she  knows  it  or  not. 
Don't,  iox  gracious  sakes!  lay  'im  on  the  table; 
anybody  knows  thafs  bad  luck. 

You  think  it  might  bother  her  on  the  bed? 
She's  that  bad  ?  An'  they  ain't  no  fire  kindled  in 
the  settin'-room,  to  lay  it  in  there. 

S-i-r  ?  Well,  yas,  I  —  I  reck'n  i'll  haf  to  hold 
it,  ef  you  say  so  —  that  is  —  of  co'se. 

Wait,  doctor!  Don't  let  go  of  it  yet!  Lordy!  but 
I'm  thess  shore  to  drop  it!  Lemme  set  down  first, 
doctor,  here  by  the  fiie  an'  git  het  through.  Not 
yet !  My  ol'  shin-bones  stan'  up  thess  like  a  pair  o' 
dog-irons.   Lemme  bridge  'em  over  first  'th  somethin' 

(303) 


364  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

soft.  That'll  do.  She  patched  that  quilt  herself. 
Hold  on  a  minute  tell  I  git  the  aidges  of  it  under 
my  ol'  boots,  to  keep  it  f'om  saggin'  down  in  the 
middle. 

There,  now!  Merciful  goodness!  but  I  never! 
I'd  ruther  trus'  myself  with  a  whole  playin'  foun- 
tain and  blowed  glass 'n  sech  ez  this. 

Stoop  down  there,  doctor,  please,  sir,  an'  shove 
the  end  o'  this  quilt  a  leetle  further  under  my 
foot,  won't  you  ?  Ef  it  was  to  let  up  sudden,  I 
wouldn't  have  no  more  lap  'n  what  any  other  fool 
man's  got. 

'N'  now  —  you  go  to  her. 

I'd  feel  a  heap  safeter  ef  this  quilt  was  nailed 
to  the  flo'  on  each  side  o'  my  legs.  The5''re  trim- 
blin'  so  I  dunno  what  minute  my  feet  '11  let  go  their 
holt. 

An'  she  don't  know  it  yet!  An'  he  layin'  here, 
dressed  up  in  all  the  little  clo'es  she  sewed!  She 
mus'  be  purty  bad.  I  dunno,  though;  maybe  that's 
gen'ally  the  way. 

They're  keepin'  mighty  still  in  that  room. 
Blessed  ef  I  don't  begin  to  feel  'is  warmth  in  my 
ol'  knee-bones !  An'  he  's  a-breathin'  thess  ez  reg'- 
lar  ez  that  clock,  on'y  quicker.  Lordy!  An'  she 
don't  know  it  yet!  An'  he  a  boy!  He  took  that 
after  the  Joneses;  we've  all  been  boys  in  our  male 
branch.  When  that  name  strikes,  seem  like  it 
comes  to  stay.     Now  for  a  girl 

Wonder  ef  he  ain't  covered  up  'most  too  clost. 
Seem  like  he  snuffles   purty  loud  —  for  a  beginner. 

Doctor !  oh^  doctor !     I  say,  doctor  ! 

Strange  he  don't  hear — 'n'  I  don't  like  to  hol- 
ler no  louder.  Wonder  ef  she  could  be  worse.  Ef 
I  could  thess  reach  somethin'  to  knock  with!  I 
dares'n't  lif  my  foot,  less'n  the  whole  business'd 
fall  through. 

Oh,  doc! — "here  becomes  now — Doctor,  I  say, 
don't  you  think  maybe  he's  covered  up  too 


AT  THE  BEGINNING  305 

How's  she,  doctor?  "  Thess  the  same,*  you 
say;  'n'  she  don't  know  yet  —  about  him?  "In  a 
couple  of  hours,  *'  you  say  ?  Well,  don't  let  me 
keep  you,  doctor.  But,  tell  me,  don't  you  think 
maybe  he  's  covered  up  a  leetle  too  clost  ? 

That's  better.  An'  now  I've  saw  him  befo'  she 
did!     An'  I  didn't  want  to,  neither. 

Poor  leetle,  teenchy,  weenchy  bit  of  a  thing! 
Ef  he  ain't  the  very  littlest !  Lordy,  Lordy,  Lordy! 
But  I  s'pose  all  thet's  needed  in  a  baby  is  a  star- 
tin'-p'int  big-  enough  to  hoi  the  fam'ly  ch'ra^teris- 
tics.  I  s'pose  maybe  he  is,  but  the  po'  little  thing 
mus'  feel  sort  o'  scrouged  with  'em,  ef  he  got  'em 
all  —  the  Joneses'  an'  the  Simses'.  Seem  to  me  he 
favors  her  a  little  thess  aroun'  the  mouth. 

An'  she  don't  know  it  yet! 

Lord!  But  my  legs  ache  like  ez  ef  they  was 
bein'  wrenched  off.  I've  got  'em  on  sech  a  strain, 
somehow.  An'  he  on'y  a  half  hour  ol',  an'  two 
hours  mo'  'fo'  I  can  budge !  Lord,  Lord !  how  will 
I  stand  it! 

God  bless  'im !  Doc!  He's  a-sneezin'l  Come 
quick!     Shore  ez  I'm  here,  he  snez  twicet! 

Don't  you  reckon  you  better  pile  some  mo'  wood 
on  the  fire  an' 

What's  that  you  say  ?  *  Fetch  'im  along  '^  ?  An' 
has  she  ast  for  'im  ?  Bless  the  Lord!  I  say.  But 
a  couple  of  you'll  have  to  come  help  me  loosen  up 
'fo'  I  can  move,  doctor. 

Here,  you  stan'  on  that  side  of  the  quilt,  whiles 
I  move  my  foot  to  the  fio'  where  it  won't  slip  —  an' 
Dicey  —  where's  that  nigger  Dicey  ?  You  Dicey, 
come  on  here,  an'  tromp  on  the  other  side  o'  this 
bed-quilt  tell  I  h'ist  yo'  young  marster  up  on  to 
my  shoulder.  No,  you  don't  take  'im,  neither. 
I'll  tote  'im  myself. 

Now,  go  fetch  a  piller  tell  I  lay  'im  on  it. 
'That's  it.  And  now  get  me  somethin'  stiff  to  lay 
the  piller  on.     There  !     That  lapboa'd  '11  do.     Why 

D.L.H. — 20 


3o6  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

didn't  I  think  about  that  befo'?  Ifs  a  heap  safeter 
'n   my   ol'    knee-j'ints.     Now,    I've    got    'im   secure 

—  wait^  doctor  —  hold  on!  I'm  afeered  you'll  haf  to 
ca'y  'im  to  her  after  all.  I'll  cry  ef  I  do  it.  I'm 
trimblin'  like  ez  ef  I  had  a'ager,  thess  a-startin'  in 
with  'im — an'  seein'  me  give  way  might  make  her 
nervious.  You  take  'im  to  her,  an'  lemme  come  in 
sort  o'  unconcerned  terreckly,  after  she  an'  him  've 
kind  o'  got  acquainted.  Dast  you  hold  'im  that-a- 
way,  doctor,  'thout  no  support  to  'is  spinal  col- 
umn ?  I  s'pose  he  is  too  sof '  to  snap,  but  I 
would  n't  resk  it.  Reckon  I  can  slip  in  the  other 
do'  where  she  won't  see  me,  an'  view  the  meetin'. 

Yes;  I'm  right  here,  honey!  (The  idee  o'  her 
a-callin'  for  me  —  an'  him  in  'er  arms!)  I'm  right 
here,  honey  —  mother!  Don't  min' me  a-cryin'.  I'm 
all  broke  up,  somehow;  but  don't  you  fret.  I'm  right 
here  by  yo'  side  on  my  knees,  in  pure  thankfulness. 

Bless  His  name,  I  say  !  You  know  he's  a  boy, 
don't  yer  ?  I  been  a-holdin'  'im  all  day  —  't  least 
ever  sense  they  dressed  'im,  purty  nigh  a'  hour 
ago.     An'  he's   slep'  —  an'   waked  up  —  an'  yawned 

—  an'  snez  —  an'  wunk  —  an'  sniffed — 'thout  me 
sayin'  a  word.  Opened  an'  shet  his  little  fist, 
oncet,  like  ez  if  he  craved  to  shake  hands,  howdy! 
He  cert'n'y  does  perform  'is  functions  wonderful. 

Yas,  doctor;  I'm  a-comin',  right  now. 

Go  to  sleep  now,  honey,  you  an'  'im,  an'  I'll  be 
right  on  the  spot  when  needed.  Lemme  whisper 
to  her  thess  a  minute,  doctor  ? 

I  thess  want  to  tell  you,  honey,  thet  you  never, 
even  in  yo'  young  days,  looked  ez  purty  to  my 
eyes  ez  what  you  do  right  now.  An'  that  boy  is 
yo*  boy,  an'  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  lay  no  mo'  claim  to 
'im  'n  to  see  that  you  have  yo'  way  with  'im  —  you 
hear  ?      An'  now  good  night,  honey,  an'  go  to  sleep. 

They  was  n't  nothin'  lef  for  me  to  do  but  to 
come  out  here  in  this  ol'  woodshed  where  nobody 
would  n't  see  me  ac'  like  a  plumb  baby. 


AT  THE   BEGINNING  307 

An'  now,  seem  like  I  can't  git  over  it  !  The 
idee  o'  me,  fifty  year  ol',  actin'  like  this  ! 

An'  she  knows  it  !  An'  she's  got  'im  —  a  boy  — 
layin'  in  the  bed  'longside  'er. 

*  Mother  an'  child  doin'  well  !  *^  Lord,  Lord  ! 
How  often  I've  heerd  that  said  !  But  it  never 
gimme  the  all-overs  like  it  does  now,   someway. 

Guess  I'll  gether  up  a'  armful  o'  wood,  an'  try 
to  act  unconcerned  —  an'  laws-a-mercy  me!  ef — to- 
day—  ain't  —  been  —  Christmas!  My!  my!  my!  An' 
it  come  an'  gone  befo'  I  remembered! 

I'll  haf  to  lay  this  wood  down  ag'in  an'  think. 

I've  had  many  a  welcome  Christmas-gif  in  my 
life,  but  the  idee  o'  the  good  Lord  a-timin'  this  like  that ! 

Christmas!     An'  a  boy!     An'  she  doin'  well! 

No  wonder  that  ol'  turkey-gobbler  sets  up  on 
them  rafters  blinkin'  at  me  so  peaceful !  He  knows 
he's  done  passed  a  critical  time  o'  life. 

You've  done  crossed  another  bridge  saft,  ol' 
gobbly,  an'  you  can  afford  to  blink  —  an'  to  set  out 
in  the  clair  moonlight,  'stid  o'  roostin'  back  in  the 
shadders,  same  ez  you  been  doin'. 

You  was  to  've  died  by  accident  las'  night,  but 
the  new  visitor  that's  dropped  in  on  us  ain't  cut 
'is  turkey  teeth  yet,   an'  his  mother 

Lord  how  that  name  does  sound!  Mother!  I 
hardly  know  'er  by  it,  long  ez  I  been  tryin'  to  fit 
the  name  to  'er  —  an'  fearin'  to,  too,  less'n  some- 
thin'  might  go  wrong  with  either  one. 

I  even  been  callin'  him  **  it  '^  to  myself  all  along, 
so  'feerd  thet  ef  I  set  my  min'  on  either  the  ^*  he  ** 
or  the  "  she  ^^  the  other  one  might  take  a  notion  to 
come  —  an'  I  did  n't  want  any  disappointment  mixed 
in  with  the  arrival. 

But  now  he's  come, —  an'  registered,  ez  they  say 
at  the  polls, —  I  know  I  sort  o'  counted  on  the  boy, 
some  way. 

Lordy !  but  he's  little !  Ef  he  had  n't  a*  showed 
up  so   many   of   his   functions   spontaneous,   I'd   be 


3o8  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

oneasy  less'n  he   might   n't   have  'em;    but   they're 
there,  bless  goodness!  they're  there! 

An'  he  snez  perzac'ly,  for  all  the  world,  like  my 
po'  ol'  pap  —  a  reg'lar  little  cat  sneeze,  thess  like 
all  the  Joneses. 

Well,  Mr.  Turkey,  befo'  I  go  back  into  the  house, 
I'm  a-goin'  to  make  you  a  solemn  promise. 

You  go  free  tell  about  this  time  next  year, 
anyhow.  You  an'  me  '11  celebrate  the  birthday  be- 
tween ourselves  with  that  contrac'.  You  need  n't 
git  oneasy  Thanksgivin',  or  picnic-time,  or  Easter, 
or  no  other  time  'twixt  this  an'  nex'  Christmas  — 
less'n,  of  co'se,  you  stray  off  an'  git  stole. 

An'  this  here  reprieve,  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand, is  a  present  from  the  junior  member  of  this 
firm. 

Lord!  but  I'm  that  tickled!  This  here  wood 
ain't  much  needed  in  the  house, —  the  wood-boxes 
're  all  full, —  but  I  can't /af^vise  no  other  excuse  for 
vacatin'  —  thess  at  this  time. 

S'pose  I  might  gether  up  some  eggs  out'n  the 
nestes,  but  it  'd  look  sort  o'  flighty  to  go  ^g^- 
huntin'  here  at  midnight  —  an'  he  not  two  hours  ol'. 

I  dunno,  either,  come  to  think;  she  might  need 
a  new-laid  &%% — sof  'biled.  Guess  I'll  take  a 
couple  in  my  hands  —  an'  one  or  two  sticks  o' 
wood  —  an'  I'll  draw  a  bucket  o'  water  too — an' 
tote  that  in. 

Goodness!  but  this  back  yard  is  bright  ez  day! 
Goin'  to  be  a  clair,  cool  night — moon  out,  full  an' 
white.     Ef  this  ain't  the  stillest  stillness! 

Thess  sech  a  night,  for  all  the  world,  I  reckon, 
ez  the  first  Christmas,  when  He  come. 

When  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night, 

All  seated  on  the  ground, 
The  angel  o'  the  Lord  come  down. 

An'  glory  shone  around. 

— thess  like  the  hymn   says. 


AT  THE   BEGINNING  309 

The  whole  o'  this  back  yard  is  full  o'  glory 
this  minute.  Th'  ain't  nothin*  too  low  down  an' 
mean  for  it  to  shine  on,  neither  —  not  even  the 
well-pump  'r  the  cattle-trough  — 'r  the  pigpen  — 
'r  even  me. 

Thess  look  at  me,  covered  over  with  it!  An' 
how  it  does  shine  on  the  roof  o'  the  house  where 
they  lay  —  her  an'  'im! 

I  suppose  that  roof  has  shined  that-a-way  frosty 
nights  'fo'  to-night;  but  someway  I  never-  seemed 
to  see  it. 

Don't  reckon  the  creakin'  o'  this  windlass  could 
disturb  her — or  'im. 

Reckon  I  might  go  turn  a  little  mo'  cotton- 
seed in  the  troughs  for  them  cows  —  an'  put  some 
extry  oats  out  for  the  mules  an'  the  doctor's  mare 
—  an'  onchain  Rover,  an'  let  'im  stretch  'is  legs  a 
little.  I'd  like  everything  on  the  place  to  know 
he's  come,  an'  to  feel  the  diff'ence. 

Well,  now  I'll  load  up  —  an'  I  do  hope  nobody 
won't  notice  the  r<?dic'lousness  of  it. 

You  say  she's  asleep,  doctor,  an'  th'  ain't 
nothin'  mo'  needed  to  be  did  — an'  yo'    're  goin'! 

Don't,  for  gracious  sakes  go,  doctor,  an'  leave 
me !  I  won't  know  what  on  top  o'  the  round  earth 
to  do,  ef  —  ef  —  You  know  she  —  she  might  wake 
up  —  or  he! 

You  say  Dicey  she  knows.  But  she's  on'y  a 
nigger,  doctor.  Yes;  I  know  she's  had  exper'ence 
with  the  common  run  o'  babies,  but 

I.emme  go  an'  set  down  this  bucket,  an'  lay 
this  stick  o'  wood  on  the  fire,  an'  put  these  eggs 
down,  so's  I  can  talk  to  you  free-handed. 

Step  here  to  the  do',  doctor.  I  say,  doc,  ef  it 
's  a  question  o'  the  size  o'  yo'  bill,  you  can  make 
it  out  to  suit  yo'self  —  or,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do. 
You  stay  right  along  here  a  day  or  so  —  tell  to- 
morrer   or  nex'  day,    anyhow  — an'  I'll   sen'   you   a 


3io  THE   DOCTOR*S  LEISURE  HOUR 

whole  bale  o'  cotton  —  an'  you  can  sen'  back  any 
change  you  see  fit  —  or  none — or,  none,  I  say. 
Or,  ef  you'd  ruther  take  it  out  in  pertaters  an' 
corn  an'  sorghum,  thess  say  so,  an'  how  much  of 
each. 

But  what  ?  «  It  wouldn't  be  right  ?  Th'  ain't 
no  use,*^  you  say  ?  An'  you'll  shore  come  back  to- 
morrer  ?  Well.  But,  by  the  way,  doctor,  did  you 
know  to-day  was  Christmas  ?  Of  co'se  I  might've 
knew  you  did — but  /  never.  An'  now  it  seems  to 
me  like  Christmas,  an'  Fo'th  o'  July,  an'  ^*  Hail 
Columbia,  happy  Ian',*'  all  b'iled  down  into  one  big 
jubilee ! 

But  tell  me,  doctor,  confidential — sh — step  here 
a  leetle  further  back  —  tell  me,  don't  you  think  he's 
to  say  a  leetle  bit  undersized  ?  Speak  out,  ef  he 
is. 

Wh  —  how'd  you  say?  "Mejum,**  eh?  Thess 
mejum !  An'  they  do  come  even  littler  yet  ?  An' 
you  say  mejum  babies  're  thess  ez  liable  to  turn 
out  likely  an'  strong  ez  over-sizes,  eh?  M  —  m! 
Well,  I  reckon  you  know  —  an'  maybe  the  less  they 
have  to  contend  with  at  the  start  the  better. 

Oh,  thanky,  doctor!  Don't  be  afeered  o'  wren- 
chin'  my  wris'!  A  thousand  thankies!  Yo'  word 
for  it,  he's  a  fine  boy!  An'  you've  inspected  a 
good  many,  an'  of  co'se  you  know  —  yas,  yas! 
Shake  ez  hard  ez  you  like  —  up  an'  down  —  up  an' 
down! 

An'  now  I'll  go  git  yo'  horse — an'  don't  ride 
'er  too  hard  to-night,  'cause  I've  put  a  double  po'- 
tion  of  oats  in  her  trough  awhile  ago.  The  junior 
member  he  give  instructions  that  everything  on  the 
place  was  to  have  a'  extry  feed  to-night  —  an'  of 
co'se  I  went  and  obeyed  orders. 

Now —  'fo'  you  start,  doctor  —  I  ain't  got  a  thing 
stronger  'n  raspberry  vinegar  in  the  house  —  but  ef 
you'll  drink  a  glass  o'  that  with  me  ?  (Of  co'se  he 
will!) 


AT  THE  BEGINNING  31 1 

She  made  this  'erself,  doctor  —  picked  the  ber- 
ries 'n  all  —  an'  I  raised  the  little  sugar  that's  in 
it.     Well,  good  night,  doctor!     To-morrer,  shore! 

Sh-h! 

How  that  do'-latch  does  click  !  Thess  like 
thunder ! 

Sh-h!  Dicey,  you  go  draw  yo'  palet  closet  out- 
side the  do',  an'  lay  down  —  an'  I'll  set  here  by 
the  fire  an'  keep  watch. 

How  my  ol'  stockin'-feet  do  tromp!  Do  lemme 
hurry  an'  set  down!  Seem  like  this  room  's  awful 
rackety,  the  fire  a-poppin'  an'  tumblin',  an'  me  breath- 
in'  like  a  porpoise.  Even  the  clock  ticks  ez  ex- 
cited ez  I  feel.  Wonder  how  they  sleep  through 
it  all!  But  they  do.  He  beats  her  a-snorin'  a'- 
ready,  blest  ef  he  don't !  Wonder  ef  he  knows  he's 
born  into  the  world,  po'  little  thing!  I  reckon  not; 
but  they's  no  telHn'.  Maybe  that's  the  one  thing 
the  good  Lord  gives  them  to  know,  so's  they'll 
realize  what  to  begin  to  study  about  —  theirselves 
an'  the  world  —  how  to  fight  it  an'  keep  friends 
with  it  at  the  same  time.  Ef  I  could  giggle  an' 
sigh  both  at  oncet,  seem  like  I'd  be  relieved  — 
somehow  I  feel  sort  o'  tight  'roun'  the  heart — an' 

wide  awake  an' 

How  that  clock  does  travel  —  an'  how  they  all 
keep  time,  he — an'  she  —  an'  it  —  an'  me  —  an'  the 
fire  roa'in'  up  the  chimbly  playin'  a  tune  all  around 
us  like  a'  organ,  an'   he  —  an'  she  —  an'  he  —  an'  it 

—  an'  he  —  an' 

Blest  ef  I  don't  hear  singing  —  an'  how  white 
the  moonlight  is !     They  's  angels  all  over  the  house 

—  an'  their  robes   is   breshin'  the    roof   whiles  they 


sing- 


His  head  had  fallen.     He  was  dreaming. 

—  Ruth  McEnery  Stuart. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 


AN    IMPORTANT    PETITION 


o 


END    of  amusement   has   been  created   in  a 

certain  neighborhood  on  the  West   Side,  in 

Buffalo,  over   the    performance    of   a    small 

boy   who    has    been    making    up    the    most 

unique   subscription    list,  or  petition,    whichever   it 

may   be,    that   I   have   ever   heard  of. 

This  little  fellow  is  seven  years  old  and  is  one 
of  the  brightest  pupils  in  the  State  Normal  School 
training  department.  Not  long  ago  he  spent  the 
afternoon  with  a  playmate  who  has  a  baby  brother. 
His  visitor,  whom  we  may  call  Clarence,  is  fond, 
very  fond,  of  babies,  and  the  good  fortune  of  his 
friend  made  him  discontented. 

So,  no  sooner  had  he  returned  home  than  Clarence 
sought  out  his  mother  and  said  :  — 

"  Why  can't  we  have  a  baby  ?  I  want  one  very 
much!  * 

His  mother  regarded  him  for  a  moment  with  an 
amused  smile  and  replied :  "  Very  well ;  ask  Dr. 
Fredericks.  He  has  brought  all  the  babies  we  ever 
had.» 

The  next  day  the  small  boy  disappeared  for  a 
time,  and  when  his  anxious  mother  set  eyes  on  him 
again,  he  was  coming  into  the  house  triumphantly 
waving  a  paper. 

**  I've  got  it!^^  he  exclaimed. 

*^  Got  what  ?  '*  asked  his  mother,  taking  the  paper 
and  examining  it. 

"  A  list  of  people  that  want  babies,  '^  replied  the 
little  fellow. 

It  developed  that  the  small  boy  had  been  about 
the  neighborhood  and  had  actually  got  a  large 
number  of  signatures  of  men  and  women  to  a 
petition  asking  Dr.  Fredericks  to  bring  them  a 
baby.  It  was  later  learned  that  the  small  petition- 
circulator  had  created  no   end  of  merriment  in  the 


AT  THE  BEGINNING  3^3 

various  families  visited,  but  all  fell  into  the  spirit 
of  the  joke  and  promptly  put  down  their  names. 

«  But  why  did  you  think  it  necessary  to  get  other 
people  to  ask  the  doctor  for  a  baby  ? »  curiously 
asked  his  mother. 

«  Oh,  I  thought  if  he  had  a  large  order  we  would 
be  more  apt  to  get  one,»  replied  the  little  boy. 


IMPOSSIBLE    CURE 
Bodkins  —  «  Doctor,  how  can  insomnia  be  cured  ? » 

Doctor «  Well,  the  patient  should  count  slowly, 

and    in    a    meditative    manner    five    hundred,    and 

then '' 

Bodkins— '^'T\i2iVs    all    very   well,    doctor;    but 

our  baby  can't  count." 


A    FAR-SEEING    BOY 
Little  Willie  Bykerr  —  '^'^ho  brought  the  baby, 

Auntie  ? » 

^^;^/;>_«  Doctor  Jones,  dear!* 

Little  Willie  — ''V^eW,  you'd  better  not  forget 
his  address.* 

Au7itie—  «  And  why,  Willie  ? » 

Little  Willie— '"CsiViSQ  if  the  kid  ever  breaks 
an  arm  or  a  leg  we'll  have  to  get  new  parts  for 
him,  won't  we  ?  ** 

Little  Bessie  lived  in  the  suburbs  of  a  city 
where  hardly  a  day  passed  that  an  agent  or  can- 
vasser for  some  article  didn't  call  at  the  house. 
One  day  her  father  called  her  into  her  mother's 
room  and  showed  her  a  little  baby  brother  that 
had  just  arrived.  « Where  did  he  come  from?» 
asked  Bessie.  "The  doctor  brought  him,»  was  the 
reply.  «Why,»  she  exclaimed,  «I  didn't  know  he 
was  the  agent  for  babies." 


314 


THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 


YESTERDAY  moming  there  was  a  strange  and  un- 
usual commotion  in  heaven.  A  little  angel, 
with  big  black  eyes,  and  the  softest  of  white  wings, 
asked  St.  Peter  to  let  him  out  of  the  pearly  gates. 
The  good  saint  hesitated  —  he  was  loth  to  lose  so 
sweet  a  treasure  —  but  when  the  little  angel  told 
him  he  would  come  back  sometime  the  gate  was 
opened  a  trifle  and  the  treasure  crept  out.  Of 
course  he  came  right  down  to  earth  and,  peering 
anxiously  around,  he  found  no  pleasanter,  easier 
home  than  that  of  Mrs.  Skiff.  It  was  very,  very 
early  in  the  morning,  and  so  he  slipped  quietly  in 
through  the  door  and,  snuggling  up  close  to  the 
lady,  said:  "  I  am  a  little  angel  and  you  must  be 
very  good  to  me.  I  will  stay  with  you  always, 
and  when  you  are  old  and  weak  you  will  be  glad 
that  the  little  angel  came  to  you."  Mrs.  Skiff  bade 
the  stranger  angel  welcome  and  just  then  good 
Dr.  French,  happening  to  pass  the  house,  heard 
sweet  music  that  he  knew  could  only  come  from 
heaven.  So  he  went  in  and  saw  the  little  angel 
on  the  couch.  In  a  moment  his  keen  lancet  was 
out,  and  he  had  clipped  off  the  wings  of  the  little 
angel  and  they  had  flown  back  to  heaven  alone. 
*  This  is  too  precious  a  treasure  to  lose,  **  said  the 
good  doctor.  ^*  We  must  keep  him  with  us  always. " 
And  so  the  little  angel  stays,  a  joy  to  the  home  he 
has  found  on  earth  and  a  pride  to  those  whom  he 
will,  God  willing,  call  father  and  mother.  Let  us 
hope  that  the  angels  in  heaven  may  not  miss  their 
absent  cherub  that  they  will  say  **  Come  back  ** ; 
but  when  the  summons  comes,  let  it  come  from 
the  lips  of  the  father  and  mother  on  the  confines 
of  the  Beautiful,  away  over  there  in  the  Beyond. 

—  Eugene  Field. 


There  are  two  things  in  this  life   for  which  we 
are  never  fully  prepared,  and  they  are  twins. 


AT  THE   BEGINNING  315 


HIS    FIRST    BORN 

Young  Father  —  "  By  Jove !  He's  a  queer-look- 
ing duffer.  Wouldn't  suspect  he  belonged  to  one 
of  the  four  hundred,  would  you  ?  ** 

Doctor — "I'm  not  so  sure  of  that;  there's  very 
little  expression  in  his  face." 


Dr.  Bolus — "And  how  are  you  enjoying  life, 
my  dear.  * 

Aliss  Grade  Young — "  Oh,  not  very  well,  doc- 
tor; you  see,   I'm  not  in  society  yet.'* 

Dr.  Bolus —  "  Is  that  possible  ?  Why,  I  clearly 
remember  being  present  at  your  first  bawl !  '* 


Friend  of  the  Family —  "  Johnny,  I  suppose  you 
are  delighted  with  the  new  little  brother  at  your 
house  ?  " 

Johnny — "New,  nothin' !  He's  second-hand! 
The  doctor  brought  him,  and  there's  no  tellin'  how 
many  families  has  had  him  before.** 


"  Doctor,  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  peculiar 
formation  just  back  of  baby's  ear  ?  ** 

"  Combativeness,  perhaps.  * 

"  Why,  some  one  said  it  was  love  of  domestic 
life.» 

"Oh,  well,  its  all  one  and  the  same  thing.** 


"  Did  you  hear  what  Whimpton's  little  boy  said 
when  they  showed  him  the  twins  ?  ** 

"  No ;  what  was  it  ?  ** 

"  He  said,  *  There !  mamma's  been  getting  bar- 
gains again.  *  '* 


UNTIL  THE  DOCTOR 
COMES 


Vou  rub  the  sore 
When  you  should  bring  the  plaster. 

—  Shakespeare,  <<  The  Tempest,^'  iii,  i. 


"M 


Y  HUSBAND  is  SO  poctic,  *  Said  one  lady  to  an- 
other, in  a  Washington  street  car  the  other 
day.  "  Have  you  ever  tried  rubbin'  his  jints  with 
hartshorn  liniment,  mum  ?  **  interrupted  a  beefy 
looking  woman  with  a  market  basket  at  her  feet, 
who  was  sitting  at  her  elbow  and  overheard  the 
remark.  "  That'll  straighten  him  out  as  quick  as 
anything  I  know  of,  if  he  hain't  got  it  too  bad.** 


<^  CERTAIN  doctor,  who  was  noted  for  a  keen  eye 
^^  to  business,  was  driving  along  the  street  of  a 
country  town,  when  his  horse  took  fright  and  ran 
away.  He  was  thrown  violently  out  of  his  trap 
and  rendered  senseless.  Presently  he  recovered  a 
little  from  his  unconsciousness,  and,  noticing  the 
crowd  which  had  gathered  about  him,  asked: 
*  What's  the  matter,  gentlemen?  Anybody  hurt? 
I  am  Dr.   B .     Can  I  be  of  any  service  ? " 


Surgeon  (at  the  New  York  Hospital)  —  "  What 
brought  you  to  this  dreadful  condition  ?  Were 
you  run  over  by  a  street  car  ?  ** 

Patient — <<  No,  sir;  I   fainted,  and   was  brought 
to  by  a    member   of  the  *  Society  of    First    Aid   to 
the  Injured.*  * 
(316) 


UNTIL  THE   DOCTOR  COMES  317 

Anxious  Mother — ^*  It  was  after  nine  o'clock 
when  Clara  came  down  to  breakfast  this  morning, 
and  the  poor  girl  didn't  look  well  at  all.  Her  sys- 
tem needs  toning  up.  What  do  you  think  of 
iron  ?  *^ 

Father  — "  Good  idea.  * 

Mother — "What  kind  of  iron  had  she  better 
take  ?  » 

Father — **She  had  better  take  a  flat-iron." 


The  Doctor  —  *  Mrs.  Brown  has  sent  for  me  to 
go  and  see  her  boy,  and  I  must  go  at  once.** 

His  Wife  —  "What  is  the  matter  with  the 
boy  ? » 

The  Doctor  —  "I  don't  know,  but  Mrs.  Brown 
has  a  book  on  ^  What  to  Do  Before  the  Doctor 
Comes,*  and  I  must  hurry  up  before   she   does  it.** 


"  Run  for  the  doctor,  quick !  **  panted  Mrs. 
Pneer.  "Johnny's  been  eating  mushrooms,  and 
he  says  he  feels  sick  I  ** 

"Wouldn't  it  be  cheaper,**  suggested  Mr.  Pneer, 
*  to  ask  some  expert's  opinion  about  the  mush- 
rooms ?  ** 


Mrs.  Selby — "Doctah,  de  chile  dun  gone  swal- 
ler  'r  pint  ob  ink.** 

Doctor  — "  Hab  yo'  dun  ennyding  fo'  de  relief 
ob  'im  ?  ** 

Mrs.  Selby — "  I'se  dun  made  'im  eat  free  sheet 
ob  blottin'-paper,  doctah.     Was  dat  rite  ?  ** 


THE  YOUNG  HOPEFUL 

Dispel  not  the  happy  delusions  of  children. 

—  Goethe. 


HE  ENGAGED    THE    BOY 

|r.   McTavish  of  Edinburgh  was  something 
of  a  ventriloquist,  and  it  befell  that  he 
wanted  a  lad   to    assist   in    the    surgery 
who"must  necessarily  be  of  strong  nerves. 

He  received  several  applications,  and  when  tell- 
ing a  lad  what  the  duties  were,  in  order  to  test  his 
nerves,  he  would  say,  while  pointing  to  a  grinning 
skeleton  standing  upright  in  a  corner:  — 

<<  Part  of  your  work  would  be  to  feed  the  skel- 
eton there,  and  while  you  are  here  you  may  as 
well  have  a  try  to  do  so.  '^ 

A  few  lads  would  consent  to  a  trial,  and  re- 
ceived a  basin  of  hot  gruel  and  a  spoon. 

While  they  were  pouring  a  hot  mass  into  the 
skull  the  doctor  would  throw  his  voice  so  as  to 
make  it  appear  to  proceed  from  the  jaws  of  the 
bony  customer,  and  gurgle  out :  — 

«  Gr-r-r-rgr-h-uh !     That's  hot !  » 

This  was  too  much  and  without  exception  the 
lads  dropped  the  basin  and  bolted. 

The  doctor  began  to  despair  of  ever  getting  a 
suitable  helpmate  until  a  small  boy  came  and  was 
given  the  basin  and  spoon. 

After  the  first  spoonful  the  skeleton  appeared  to 
say :  — 

«  Gr-r-r-uh-r-hr !     That's  hot !  » 

Shoveling  in  the  scalding  gruel  as  fast  as  ever, 
the  boy  rapped  the  skull   and  impatiently  retorted: 

«  Well,  jist  blow  on't,  ye  auld  bony !  ** 

The    doctor   sat    down    on   his    chair   and    fairly 
roared,  but  when  the  laugh  was  over   he    engaged 
the  lad  on  the  spot. 
(318) 


THE   YOUNG   HOPEFUL  319 

WOULDN'T    LET    HIM    SPEAK 

i)ES,    you   will,    Eddie,  ^>    declared   both   grand- 
mother and  mother,  firmly;  and  the  major- 
ity   being    two    to    one,    at    bed-time    the 
_  poultice   was    ready.      If   the   poultice   was 

ready,  the  boy  was  not,  and  he  proved  so  refractory 
that  a  switch  was  brought  into  requisition. 

It  was  arranged  that  the  grandmother  should 
apply  the  poultice,  while  the  mother  was  to  stand 
with  the  uplifted  switch  at  the  bedside.  The  boy 
was  told  that  if  he  «  opened  his  mouth, »  he  would 
receive  that  which  would  keep  him  quiet.  As  the 
hot  poultice   touched  the  boy's   foot,  he  opened  his 

mouth.     «You '^  he  began. 

«Keep  still, »  said  his  mother,  shaking  the  stick, 

while  the  grandmother  busily  applied  the  poultice. 

Once  more  the   httle   fellow  opened  his   mouth. 

«  I »  but  the  uplifted  switch  awed  him  to  silence. 

In  a  minute  more  the  poultice  was  firmly  in 
place  and  the  boy  was  tucked  in  bed.  « There 
now,'*  said  his  mother,  «  the  old  sliver  will  be  drawn 
out  and  Eddie's  foot  will  be  all  well." 

As  the  mother  and  grandmother  moved  triumph- 
antly away,  a  shrill,  small  voice  came  from  under 
the  bedclothes:  — 

« You've  got  it  on  the  wrong  foot!" 


ON    HIS    OWN    GROUND 

Dr.  Pillbury—'-"^o  you  have  been  eating  too 
much  candy  again.  You  will  never  get  well  as 
long  as  you  do  that." 

Emma  (who  has  lately  taken  up  physiology)  — 
«  Oh,  I  guess  I  will !  The  ghastly  juice  will  chyme 
it  into  chyle  when  the  agitation  of  the  diagram 
will  naturalize  the  inspiration  and  resolve  it  into 
sweet  bread  or  pan-grease,  which  merely  acts  as  a 
superific.  ® 


320  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


A    SHREWD    PATIENT 

COUNTRY  lad  had  his  leg  injured  and  was 
treated  for  some  time  by  the  local  doctor 
without  much  favorable  result.  His  mother 
had  great  faith  in  a  certain  **quack  *  bone- 
setter,  and  wanted  her  son  to  go  to  him;  but  the 
boy  objected,  preferring,  as  he  said,  the  "  reg'lar 
faculty.  ** 

Finally,  however,  he  yielded  to  his  mother's 
persuasions  and  was  taken  to  town,  where  the 
famous  bone-setter  resided. 

The  leg  was  duly  examined,  and  it  was  found 
necessary  to  pull  it  very  severely,  in  order  **  to  get 
the  bone  in,*^  as  the  quack  expressed  it.  The  patient 
howled  in  agony,  but  at  last  the  bone  was  "  got 
in,**  and  he  was  bidden  to  go  home.  In  a  few 
days  he  would  be  all  right,  and  could  resume  work. 

*  Didn't  he  do  it  well  ?  '*  said  the  joyous  old 
lady,  as  they  started  homeward. 

*  Yes,  he  did,  mother,  **  said  the  lad.  *^  He 
pulled  it  well;  but  I  was  na  sic  a  fool  as  to  gie 
him  the  sair  leg !  ** 


A    BLUFF    GAME 

Doctor — **  Now  my  little  man,  you  take  this 
medicine  and  I  will  give  you  five   cents." 

Young  America  —  "You  take  it  yourself  and  I 
will  go  you  five  cents  better.* 


WITH    A    RESERVATION 

Mamma  (to  Johnny,  who  had  been  gfiven  a  pear 
with  pills  artfully  concealed  in  it)  —  "  Well,  dear, 
have  you  finished  your  pear  ?  * 

Johnny  —  *Yes,  mamma,  all  but  the  seeds." 


s  leg  injured   and  was 
'^   local  doctor 

a  certa: 

n  to  go  ;    but  the 

i?    h**    '  "  -^g'lar 

yielded   to   his   mother's 
to    town,    wherp 

nined,  and   it  was   found 

M^t 

•-it 

last   the  Mras  'got 

tr,    -fo    hoiiic.     In    a  few 

AJV   Irish  ^>«  ^a^^i^c^uld  resume  work. 

?  *    said    the    iovous  old 

Lui;      \«.\x.  i.ie 

a  fool   as   to  gie 


UFF    GAME 

man,    you   take    this 
■  .  _  » 

elf  and  I 

,:er.  •* 

SERVATION 


ho  had  been  given  a  peai 
Jed   in  it)  — «  Well,  dear 

^  seeds.  ** 


THE  YOUNG  HOPEFUL  32 1 

FAMILY    ECONOMY 

Uncle  (to  the  children,  who  had  just  had  a 
dose  of  cod-liver  oil  all  around)  —  **Well  do  you 
like  cod-liver  oil  ?  * 

Children  —  "Oh,  no;  but  mamma  gives  us  five 
cents  for  every  spoonful.* 

Uncle — "And  then  do  you  buy  something 
nice  ?  * 

Children — "No,  mamma  puts  it  in  the  savings 
bank.* 

Uncle — "And  then  you  buy  something  by  and 
by?* 

Children  — "  No,    mamma    buys    more    cod-liver 

oil  with  it.  * 

—  Fliegende  Blatter. 


[Scene:  A  sick-room;  Master  Johnny,  a  five- 
year-old,  propped  up  on  pillows;  Mamma  and  the 
Doctor  in  the  foreground.^ 

Mamma  (Interlocutor)  —  "  Now,  Johnny,  darling, 
here's  some  castor  oil  for  you,  fixed  up  with  nice 
wine  and  sugar.* 

Doctor  (beseechingly)  — "  Remember,  mamma, 
don't  let  Johnny  have  it  all;  keep  some  for  me.* 

Johnny  (knowingly)  —  "  Mamma,  doctor's  such  a 
dear,  good  man,  let  him  drink  the  whole  of  it, 
won't  you?* 

Teddy  was  much  interested  in  physiology.  One 
day  his  teacher  gave  a  lesson  on  "the  bones,*  in 
which^she  incidentally  remarked  that  the  bones  protect 
the  vital  organs,  and  then  proceeded  to  explain  the 
meaning  of  the  term.  That  evening  Teddy's  sister 
Katherine  was  drumming  with  her  fingers  on  the 
table  pretending  that  she  was  playing  on  a  piano. 
Teddy  watched  her  in  silence  for  a  moment  and 
then  remarked :  «  Why  don't  you  play  on  your  vital 
organs,  Katherine  ?  * 

D.L.H. — 21 


322  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Little  four-year-old  Harry  was  not  feeling 
well,  and  his  father  suggested  that  he  might  be 
taking  the  chickenpox,  then  prevalent.  Harry 
went  to  bed  laughing  at  the  idea,  but  early  next 
morning  he  came  downstairs  looking  very  serious, 
and  said:  *  You're  right,  papa;  it  is  the  chicken- 
pox;  I  found  a  feather  in  the  bed.^^ 


A  Child  who  had  a  Mild  type  of  Measles,  in- 
vited a  number  of  her  Acquaintances  to  a  Party, 
and,  producing  a  bowl  of  Sweetmeats  from  the 
Pantry,  said :  "  Behold  now  an  Act  of  Generosity. 
I  will  take  the  Sweetmeats,  and  you,  unless  you 
immediately  take  your  Departure,  will  take  the 
measles.  ^^  This  fable  illustrates  the  ingenuousness 
of  Childhood. 


The  other  day  a  couple  of  little  girls  came  to  a 
physician's  office  to  be  vaccinated.  One  of  them 
undertook  to  speak  for  the  other,  and  explained: 
*  Doctor,  this  is  my  sister.  She  is  too  young  to 
know  her  left  arm  from  her  right,  so  mamma 
washed  both  of  them.*^ 


Doctor — <'Well,  my  fine  little  fellow,  you  have 
got  quite  well  again.  I  was  sure  that  the  pills  I 
left  for  you  would  cure  you.  How  did  you  take 
them  —  in  water  or  in  cake  ?  '^ 

*<  Oh,   I  used  them  in  my  blow-gun  ! " 


Jimmy — "  I'd  like  to  be  a  doctor  when  I  grow  up.* 

Tommy  — "  What   for  ?  *^ 

Jimmy — *  So's  when  fellers'  mothers  brought 
'em  to  me  I  could  say  to  keep  'em  home  from 
school  a  week  or  two.* 


A  PHYSICIAN  says:  ^^  If  a  child  does  not  thrive 
on  fresh  milk,  boil  it.*  This  is  too  severe.  Why 
not  spank  it  ? 


THE  FATHER 


When  I  was  sick  you  gave  me  bitter  pills. 

—  Shakespeare,  «  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,»  ii,  4. 


WHEN    PAPA'S    SICK 

HEN  papa's  sick,  my  goodness  sakes! 

Such  awful,  awful  times  it  makes; 

He    speaks    in,    oh!    such     lonesome 
tones. 

And  gives  such  ghas'ly  kinds  of  groans, 
And  rolls  his  eyes  and  holds  his  head. 
And  makes  ma  help  him  up  in  bed. 
While  Sis  and  Bridget  run  to  heat, 
Hot-water  bags  to  warm  his  feet; 
And  I  must  get  the  doctor  quick  — 
We  have  to  jump  when  papa's  sick. 

When  papa's  sick  ma  has  to  stand 

Right  side  the  bed  and  hold  his  hand, 

While  Sis  she  has  to  fan  an'  fan, 

For  he  says  he's  ^<  a  dyin'  man,^^ 

And  wants  the  children  round  him  to 

Be  there  when  ^^  sufferin'  pa  gets  through  >* ; 

He  says  he  wants  to  say  good-bye 

And  kiss  us  all  and  then  he'll  die; 

Then  moans  and  says  his  "breathin's  thick* — 

It's  awful  sad  when  papa's  sick. 

When  papa's  sick  he  acts  that  way 
Until  he  hears  the  doctor  say: 
"  You've  only  got  a  cold,  you  know ; 
You'll  be  all  right  'n  a  day  or  so ;  ** 

(323) 


324  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

And  then  —  well,  say !  you  ought  to  see, 
He's  different  as  he  can  be, 
And  growls  and  swears  from  noon  to  night 
Just  'cause  his  dinner  ain't  cooked  right, 
And  all  he  does  is  fuss  and  kick  — 
We're  all  used  up  when  papa's  sick. 

— Joe  Lincoln. 


THE    WISE    FATHER 

Doctor — "I  see  what  the  matter  is.  You  do 
not  get  sleep  enough.  Take  this  prescription  to  a 
chemist's.  '* 

Mr.  Blinkers — *<  Thank  you.  I  presume  that's 
what's  the  matter.** 

Doctor  (next  day)  — **  Ah,  good  morning.  You 
are  looking  much  better  to-day.  Slept  last  night, 
didn't  you  ?  ** 

Mr.  Blinkers — ^*  Slept  like  a  top.  I  feel  first- 
rate.  ** 

Doctor — "How  many  doses  of  that  opiate  did 
you  take  ?  ** 

Mr.  Blinkers  (in  surprise)  —  "I  didn't  take  any. 
I  gave  it  to  the  baby.* 


PROBABLY   EXPENSIVE 

Smith  —  "I  saw  you  carrying  home  a  couple  of 
nice  looking  watermelons  last  night,  Brown.  How 
much  did  they  cost  you  ?  ** 

Brown  —  **  I  don't  know  yet.  The  doctor  is  up 
at  the  house  now.* 


I  WAS  recently  attending  a  patient  whose  hus- 
band came  to  see  me  concerning  her  condition, 
and  greeted  me  with  the  words :  *  Mr.  Irving,  do 
you  think  there  is  any  need  for  any  unnecessary 
anxiety  about  my  wife  ?  * 


THE   FATHER  325 

An  old  toper,  afflicted  with  the  dropsy,  was 
advised  to  be  tapped.  His  little  son  objected, 
saying:  "Daddy,  don't  let  them,  for  you  know 
there  was  never  anything  tapped  in  this  house 
that  lasted  more  than  a  week.^^ 


Mrs.  Shee^istehi  —  *  Oh,  you  vas  awfully  sick, 
Isaac ! " 

Sheenstein  —  *  Yes,  Repecca,  but  dere  is  von 
goot  tings  about  it  —  I  am  getting  the  vort  of  my 
money  out  of  the  doctor.* 


THE  WIFE 


And  when  a  lady's  in  the  case. 

You  know  all  other  things  give  place. 

—  John  Gay,  «Fables.» 


A    HOPELESS    CASE 

Doctor  —  **  Not  so  well  to-day,  eh?  Have  you 
kept  him  quiet  and  given  him  his  medicine  regu- 
larly ? » 

Mrs.  Richard  Bevylin  Buckner  — "  Dey  ain't 
been  nobody  in  de  room  wid  him  'cept  me  an'  de 
children,  so  he's  been  nice  an'  quiet;  an'  I  give 
him  de  med'cine  like  you  tole  me  —  three  spoon- 
fuls every  hour.^^ 

Doctor  —  "  Great  heavens,  woman,  it's  a  wonder 
he's  alive!    I  said  07te  spoonful  every  three   hours." 

Mrs.  Richard  Bevylin  Buckner — **  Well,  now, 
doctah,  they  ain't  no  diff'rence  between  one  three 
an'  three  ones.     Count  'em  fo'  yo'self  an'  see.** 


VERY    AGGRAVATING 

Wife — ^*0h,  doctor!  will  John  pull  through?® 
Doctor  —  <<  Can't  say,  ma'ma.     The  crisis  will  not 

arrive  at  least  for  a  week.** 

Wife — "Oh,    dear!      And    that  bargain-sale   of 

mourning  goods  ends  to-morrow.** 


EVIDENTLY   WANDERING 

Mrs.  Jones  —  "Oh,  doctor!  is  my  husband  still 
irrational.  ** 

Doctor  Dosem  —  "  Extremely  so.  When  I  told 
him  your  mother  was  coming  tomorrow  he  smiled.  ** 
(326) 


THE  WIPE  327 


DISCOUNTING    THE    FUTURE 

Doctor — ^^  From  now  you  may  let  your  husband 
have  a  glass  of  beer  every  day.     You  understand  ?  " 

Wife — "Yes,  doctor;  just  one  glass  a  day.'^ 

Doctor  (a  week  later)  —  "  Now,  I  hope  you  have 
kept  strictly  to  that  one  glass  per  day  that  I  al- 
lowed your  husband  to  take  ?  ** 

Wife — "Most  decidedly,  doctor;  only  he  is  four 
weeks  in  advance  with  his  allowance.* 


INSANITY    IN   THE    FAMILY 

Doctor  —  "Your  husband  appears  to  be  run 
down,  anxious,  and  overworked;  but  I  see  no  signs 
of  insanity. '^ 

Mrs.  De  Fashion  —  "I'm  sure  he  is  in  danger 
of  it.     Insanity  runs  in  his  family,  you  know." 

Doctor — "Does  it  ?  » 

Mrs.  De  Fashion  — "  Yes,  indeed !  Two  of  his 
sisters  had  chances  to  marry  rich  men,  and  then 
married  poor  ones." 


HIS    GOOD    WIFE 

Dr.  Price — "Your  husband's  trouble  is  melan- 
cholia. Now,  you'd  help  him  materially  if  you'd 
only  arrange  some  pleasant  surprise  for  him." 

Mrs.  Sharp e — "I  know!  I'll  tell  him  you  said 
he  needn't  bother  about  paying  your  bill  till  he 
feels  like  it." 


HE    KNEW    SHE    SUFFERED 

*  My  wife  is  very  sick,  doctor." 
"  Is  she  suffering  much  ? " 

«  Suffering  ?     Well,   I  should  say  so       Why,  she 
has  such  a  cold  she  can't  talk!  " 


328  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

mE  little  one's  mother  had  said:  — 

«  Now  doctor,  if  there  is  any  rise  of  tem- 
perature ^^  —  she  was  great   on  temperature, 
by  the  way  —  ^*  I  will  send  for  you  at  once. 
As  you  know,  I  have  a  clinical    thermometer,  and 
can   take  the  temperature  myself  without  troubling 
you  to  come  in  for  the  purpose.  ^^ 

Just  as  I  was  going  to  bed  I  was  startled  by  a 
violent  ring  at  the  bell,  and  hastening  to  the  door 
saw  a  terrified  domestic,  who  gasped:  — 

<*  Oh,  sir,  please,  sir,  do  come  round  at  once ! 
Miss  Marjory  is  worse.  Missus  said  I  was  to  tell 
you  her  temperature  is  108,  and  is  risin'  fast.** 

Scarcely  waiting  to  put  on  my  hat,  I  rushed 
round  to  the  house  of  my  little  patient,  and  dis- 
covered the  whole  family  assembled  in  the  sick 
room  awaiting  the  end  of  poor  little  Marjory,  the 
mother  wringing  her  hands  in  agony  and  crying 
dreadfully. 

« What's  the  temperature  now  ?  *  I  almost 
shouted  in  my  agitation. 

«  Oh !  **  sobbed  the  mother,  «  I  haven't  dared  to 
look  since.  My  poor  darling!  It  was  108,  and  they 
say  that  105  is  always  fatal,'*  and  she  broke  down 
completely. 

Without  wasting  any  more  time,  I  turned  down 
the  blanket  and  found  that  the  thermometer  had 
been  thrust  between  the  child's  side  and  arm  and 
the  bulb  imbedded  in  a  freshly-applied  hot  poultice ! 


Patient — **  Doctor,  does  my  wife  seem  to  feel 
sad  because  of  my  illness  ?  ** 

Doctor  —  <<  Sad  ?  That  is  no  name  for  it.  She 
is  beside  herself  with  grief.** 

Patient  —  «  Alas,  I  thought  so.  If  I  don't  pull 
through  she  knows  that  the  money  I  intended  to 
let  her  have  for  a  sealskin  will  have  to  go  toward 
my  funeral  expenses.** 


THE  WIFE  329 

A  DOCTOR  finds  it  diflScult  sometimes  to  secure 
for  the  patient  the  quiet  necessary  for  his  recovery. 
One  doctor,  however,  was  equal  to  the  emergency. 
The  fussy,  worrying  wife  of  a  man  who  was  ill 
came  up  to  him  as  he  was  leaving  the  house,  ask- 
ing: "  Oh,  doctor,  how  is  he  ?     How  is  he  to-day  ?  » 

«  Above  everything,  he  •  must  positively  have 
quiet,  so  I  have  written  out  a  prescription  here  for 
a  couple  of  opium  powders,*  replied  the  doctor. 

"  When  shall  he  take  them  ?  When  shall  I  give 
them  to  him  ?  * 

«  Him  ?*  said  the  doctor.  *<  I've  prescribed  them 
for  you.  * 

Doctor  — *<  I  would  advise  you,  dear  madam,  to 
take  frequent  baths,  plenty  of  fresh  air,  and  dress 
in  cool  gowns.  *^ 

Husband  (an  hour  later)  — ^<  What  did  the  doctor 
say  ? " 

Wife — ^*  He  said  I  ought  to  go  to  a  watering 
place,  and  afterward  to  the  mountains,  and  to  get 
some  new  light  gowns  at  once.** 


The   Wife  — ^*  Doctor,   can   you   do   anything   for 
my  husband  ?  '* 

Doctor  — "  What  seems  to  be  the  matter  ?  '* 

The   Wife  —  "  Worrying  about  money.  ** 

Doctor — «  Oh,  I  can  relieve  him  of  that  all  right.* 


Mrs.  Fairview  — "  Doctor,  do  you  think  my  hus- 
band fully  realizes  his  condition  ?  ** 

The  Doctor  — ^*  I  do.  He  asked  me  to-day  if  I 
was  a  married  man.** 


Mrs.  Potter — ^*  What  were  poor  Mr.  Dunaway's 
last  words  ?  ** 

Dr.  Potter — ^*  He  didn't  have  any.  His  wife 
was  with  him.** 


THE  FEE 


But,  by  the  Lords,  lads,  I  am  glad  you  have  the  money. 
—  Shakespeare,  «  Henry  I V,»  Pt.  i,  ii,  4. 


BEFORE  AND  AFTER  TREATMENT 

You  Know  How  It  Is  Yourself,  Job! 
Very  ill 

Jame,  oh,  doctor!  name  your  fee! 

Ask ,  I'll  pay  whate'er  it  be! 

Skill  like  yours,  I  know  comes  high: 

Only  do  not  let  me  die; 
Get  me  out  of  this,  and  I 
Cash  will  ante,  instantly! 

Convalescent 

Cut,  oh,  doctor;  cut  that  fee; 
Cut,  or  not  a  dime  from  me; 
I  am  not  a  millionaire, 
But  I'll  do  whatever's  square; 
Only  make  a  bill  that's  fair, 
And  I'll  settle  presently. 

Well! 

Book,  oh,  doctor;  book  your  fee! 

Charge ,  I'll  pay  it  futurely. 

When  the  crops  all  by  are  laid. 
When  every  other  bill  is  paid 
(Or  when  of  death  again  afraid), 
I  will  pay  it  —  grudgingly. 
(330) 


THE   FEE  331 

SOME    DOCTORS'    FEES 

[he  fees  of  great  surgeons  and  physi- 
cians have  an  interest  for  the  pub- 
lic as  well  as  for  the  recipients. 
Hunter  never  gained  more  than 
^6,000  a  year,  and  for  many  years 
he  gained  less  than  ^1,000.  Sir  Astley's  profession 
brought  him  trifling  sums  for  several  years;  in  the 
fifth  year  of  his  practice  he  only  gained  ^^loo; 
but  in  time  his  income  rose  to  ^^  15, 000  a  year,  and 
one  year  it  reached  ^21,000.  Sir  Benjamin  Brodie's 
receipts  from  first  to  last  are  stated  to  have  far 
exceeded  Cooper's.  It  was  Dr.  Hope,  if  we  re- 
member rightly,  who  said  that  no  physician,  he  did 
not  say  no  surgeon,  could  fairly  earn  more  than 
;^5,ooo  a  year.  That  statement  was  made,  how- 
ever, when  physicians  were  content  with  smaller 
fees  than  at  the  present  time;  but  even  now  there 
are  probably  not  a  large  number  of  London  physi- 
cians who  have  the  choice  of  following  Sir  Henry 
Holland's  example  and  confining  their  professional 
income  to  ^5,000  a  year,  in  order  to  retain  leisure 
for  study,  recreation,  and  travel.  It  was  vulgarly 
reported  of  Dr.  Chambers,  when  his  right  hand  was 
injured  by  blood  poisoning,  that  his  fingers  had 
become  crooked  from  the  continual  habit  of  taking 
fees.  Few  physicians  have  been  more  popular,  and 
it  is  said  he  could  scarcely  depend  on  one  regular 
meal  a  day,  so  great  was  the  demand  for  his  serv- 
ices. « He  literally  rushed  through  the  streets, 
driven  post  haste  at  ten  miles  an  hour.''  Yet  his 
fees  do  not  appear  to  have  exceeded  9,000  guineas 
a  year,  a  limitation  that  may  be  accounted  for  by 
frequent  illnesses.  Dr.  Baillie,  the  brother  of  Joanna 
Baillie,  who  flourished  in  the  early  part  of  the 
century,  had,  perhaps,  at  that  time  the  leading 
practice  of  London,  and  is  said  to  have  made  £^o,- 
000  in  some   years.     And    this   high    remuneration 


332  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

was  not  confined  to  the  metropolis,  for  forty  years 
ago  Sir  Dominic  Corrigan,  of  Dublin,  was  receiv- 
ing an  income  of  ^9,000  per  annum.  It  might  be 
judged  from  these  figures  that  the  medical  profes- 
sion is  one  of  the  most  profitable.  No  doubt  it  is 
so  to  eminent  doctors,  just  as  the  Bar  is  profitable 
to  distinguished  barristers;  but  the  medical  profes- 
sion has,  we  think,  this  advantage  over  the  Bar 
—  that  any  man  of  average  ability,  if  his  charac- 
ter be  good  and  his  purpose  steady,  is  almost  cer- 
tain to  gain  a  living  by  medicine,  although  he  may 
fail   to  win  an  independence. 


PAYABLE     C.    O.    D. 

DOCTOR  received  a  professional  visit  from  an 
old  Scotchman,  to  whom  he  gave  instruc- 
tions, regulating  his  diet,  etc.,  particularly  advis- 
ing him  to  drink  no  spirits  for  some  time.  On 
the  patient's  rising  to  leave  without  having  re- 
ferred to  the  usual  fee,  the  doctor  spoke :  "  I  am 
in  the  way  of  charging  for  my  advice,  and  will 
trouble  you  for  half  a  crown.'* 

"  Oh,    maybe, "    said   the    canny    Scot,   **  but    I'm 
nae  gaun  to  tak'  your  advice !  ** 


N  EMINENT  doctoT  at  one  time  was  called  upon 
to  give  the  necessary  certificate  to  secure  the 
admission  of  a  young  man  to  the  insane  asylum. 
After  the  necessary  examination  he  handed  the  re- 
quired certificate  to  the  father  of  the  young  man, 
accompanied  by  his  bill  of  five  dollars.  The 
father  complained  of  the  bill  as  excessive,  where- 
upon the  doctor  said,  *^0h,  just  pay  me  that  for 
this  one,  and  /  will  give  you  a  certificate  for  all 
the  other  members  of  your  family  for  nothing. " 


THE  FEE  $33 


MANY  years  ago,  there  lived  in  the  north  of 
England  a  man  notorious  for  his  wealth,  his 
extreme  parsimony,  and  the  great  difficulty  which 
people  found  in  collecting  their  bills  from  him. 
One  day  his  wife  fell  sick.  After  delaying  the 
matter  as  long  as  he  could,  he  was  obliged  to  call 
in  a  physician.  ^  Will  you  ever  pay  me  ?"  said  the 
doctor.  ^'  I  will  give  you  my  note,  '*  said  the  man ; 
«  and  furthermore, »  said  he,  «  I  will  make  the  note 
payable  *  kill  or  cure.  >  *  The  lady  died.  The  note 
became  due,  overdue,  and,  after  many  months  of 
patient  waiting,  the  doctor  brought  suit.  The  jus- 
tice scanned  the  note,  found  it  exact  and  perfect  in 
detail,  and  asked  the  defendant  if  he  knew  of  any 
reason  why  judgment  should  not  be  rendered  against 
him.  The  old  man  arose  and  said  that  he  had  no 
attorney  to  represent  him,  for  the  reason  that  he 
did  not  think  it  necessary;  that  he  only  wanted  to 
ask  the  plaintiff  two  questions.  The  court  agreeing, 
he  said  to  the  doctor:  «  Did  you  cure  my  wife?* 
«No,>*  said  the  doctor,  «that  was  impossible." 
«  Did  you  kill  her  ?  » 


DOCTORS'  BILLS 

GENTLEMAN,  the  Other  day,  wrote  a  letter 
to  the  Times,  complaining  of  a  bill  which 
had  been  sent  in  to  him  by  his  medical  man. 
His  grievance  was,  that  the  items  of  professional 
service  had,  therein,  been  generalised  under  the  two 
heads  of  « Medicine  and  Attendance"  simply,  in- 
stead of  being  set  forth  severally  and  at  large. 
He  wished  the  account  had  been  drawn  up  according 
to  the  good  old  formula,  which  was  a  specific 
enumeration  of  the  different  pills,  draughts,  bo- 
luses, and  other  matters  and  articles,  constituting 
the  "value  received.** 


334  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

This  gentleman  evidently  prided  himself  upon 
his  common  sense,  which  told  him  that  it  would 
have  been  satisfactory  to  know  what  he  had  to  pay 
for.  The  same  faculty,  perhaps,  informed  him 
that  medicine  has  a  marketable  value,  like  tea  or 
sugar;  and  that  skill  and  science  can  be  sold  by 
weight  and  measure. 

We  hope  the  gentleman  will  approve  of  the  fol- 
lowing model  of  a  bill,  which  we  draw  up  for  the 
guidance  of  those  medical  men  who  may  have  pa- 
tients of  his  way  of  thinking  to  deal  with: — 

,  Esq. 

To ,  Surgeon,  Apothecary,  &c. 

£.    s.    d. 
Jan.  II,  1884. —  To  attending  you  at  your  own  house,  at  your  own 

request,  at  a  distance  of  five  miles o      5       o 

To  listening  for  half  an  hour  to  a  detail  of  your  symptoms o      4       a 

To  asking  you  to  put  out  your  tongue o      i       o 

To  feeling  your  pulse o      i       o 

To  inquiring  whether  you  had  slept  well  on  the  previous  night. . . .  o      i       o 
To  replying,  in  the  negative,  to  your  question,  Whether  oyster- 
sauce  was  good  for  you 0      6       8 

To  answer  to  your  question.  Whether  I  considered  you  consump- 
tive? by  telling  you  to  make  your  mind  easy,  for  that  your 

lungs  were  as  sound  as  my  own o      6      8 

To  saying  "  Yes,»  when  you  inquired,  Whether  you  were  bilious?.  .06       8 
To  telling  you,  in  answer  to  your  question.  What  I  thought  was  the 

matter  with  you  ?  «  that  you  had  got  a  common  cold  " o      6      8 

To  recommending  you  to  put  your  feet  into  warm  water,  and  take 

a  basin  of  hot  gruel,  on  going  to  bed o      3       4 

To  calomel  pill o      o      6 

To  black  dose o      i       o 

ToUl £2      3      8 

T/tat  bill  was  settled  long  ago. 

The  above  is  the  sort  of  bill  to  please  your 
sensible  man  of  business,  who  looks  upon  medical 
attendance  as  journey-work,  and  medicine  as  mer- 
chandise. For  those  who,  in  their  simplicity  think 
that  one  question  prompted  by  skill  and  science, 
which  in  a  moment  elicits  the  nature  of  a  disorder, 
is  worth  as  much  as  a  thousand;  and  that  the 
value  of  physic  depends  rather  upon  its  efficiency 
than  its  quantity,  the  charge  of  "  Medicine  and  At- 
tendance,** if  reasonable  in  amount,  may  suffice. 


THE  FEE  335 


SOUND    ADVICE 


ORTER  funny  thing  happened  durin'  the  show 
at  the  Opery  House,  night  before  last,'^ 
said  the  landlord  of  the  tavern  at  Polkville, 
Arkansas,  addressing  the  drummer  with 
whom  he  had  a  yarning  acquaintance.  ^*Tell  you 
how  it  was.  Along  about  the  middle  of  the  sec- 
ond act,  the  comedian  in  the  play  advanced  to  the 
front  of  the  stage  and  anxiously  asked  if  there  was 
a  physician  in  the  house.  The  only  doctor  present 
was  old  Doc  Quackenboss,  who  had  been  sorter 
drinkin'  for  a  week  or  so  and  was  then  snoozin' 
away  the  happy  hours  in  peaceful  oblivion  of  the 
performance,  so  to  express  it.  Somebody  jabbed 
Doc  in  the  back  and  told  him  what  was  up,  and 
he  riz  up  in  his  seat  to  see  what  was  wanted. 

^<  *■  Ah,  glad  you  are  here,  Doctor ! '  grinned  the 
comedian.  *Just  remain  where  you  are  please;  I 
am  going  to  sing.* 

"  Everybody  but  the  doctor  howled  with  laugh- 
ter; but  old  Quackenboss  jerked  out  his  gun  and 
pulled  down  on  the  funny  man. 

« <  Wa  -  al,  before  you  favor  us,  young  feller,  * 
says  he,  grimly,  *just  let  me  give  you  a  piece  of 
advice.  Don't  do  this  'ere  side-splittin'  trick  again, 
for  the  next  time  you  might  wake  up  the  wrong 
doctor,  with  painful  consequences  to  yourself.  All 
physicians  haven't  the  keen  sense  of  humor  that 
I  possess.  Understand  ?  And,  now,  as  two  dollars 
is  my  regular  price  for  professional  advice,  just 
come  down  here  and  fork  over !  * 

*And,  by  jing!  with  the  doctor's  gun  p'intin'  at 
his  brain-box  you  better  believe  he  done  so! 

^<  *■  Thanks,  young  feller !  ^  says  old  Doc,  as  he 
pocketed  the  fee.  *  You  didn't  know  I  was  loaded, 
did  you?* 

^<And,  then,  everybody  but  the  funny  man 
howled  with  laughter.  **  —  Tom  P.  Morgan. 


336  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


MUST   PAY    FOR   LUXURIES 

SOME  time  ago  a  certain  wealthy  gentleman, 
well  known  for  his  extreme  stinginess,  drove 
up  hurriedly  in  his  carriage  to  the  door  of  the  cel- 
ebrated   Dr.    S ,  of    Manchester,   England.     He 

was  in  a  state  of  acute  discomfort  and  fear  for  the 
simple  fact  that  at  the  moment  a  piece  of  fish- 
bone was  sticking  somewhere  in  the   region   of  his 

throat.     Dr.   S ,  however,  speedily  removed  the 

dangerous  obstacle,  and  the  gentleman  breathed 
freely.  "  Thank  you,  thank  you,  doctor !  **  he  ex- 
claimed, much  relieved.  ^*  I  swear  I  will  never 
eat  salmon  again,  never!  And  with  what  ease  you 
removed  it  —  a  mere  minute's  operation,  was  it 
not?     How  much  —  a  —  what  is  your  f  ee  ?  *^     "Half 

a    guinea,*^    replied    Dr.   S .     "Half   a   guinea,'* 

exclaimed  the  gentleman,  "  for  half  a  minute's 
work  ?     Impossible.  **     "  But,     consider,  '^     said     Dr. 

S ,   "a  salmon  bone.**     "What  has    that    got  to 

do    with    it?"      "Oh,  a    great  deal,**    replied    Dr. 

S .     "Had  it  been    halibut   or  fresh   haddock  I 

should  have  charged  less — perhaps  5s.;  codfish  or 
eels,  2S.  6d.  would  have  been  ample  payment; 
mackerel,  2s. ;  while  red  herring  I  might  even 
have  removed   free  of    charge;  but    salmon   at   this 

time  of  the  year  —  well,  really,  Mr.   B ,  one  has 

to  pay  for  these  luxuries.** 


THE    DOCTOR 

Three  faces  wears  the  doctor;  when  first  sought, 
An  angel's;  and  a  god's,  the  cure  half  wrought; 
But  when,  that  cure  complete,  he  seeks  his  fee, 
The  devil  looks  less  terrible  than  he. 


Patie7u  — "  Doctor,  how  is   society  as  you    have 
found  it?'' 

Dr.  Highhill — <* Bilious — very  bilious.* 


THE  FEE  337 

EMPLOYED    THE    WRONG    MAN 

Dr.  S. —  "You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  old 
Sawbones  charged  you  fifteen  dollars  for  cutting 
off  your  arm  ?  '* 

Mr.  P.— «Yes,  fifteen  dollars. » 

Dr.  S. —  "  Now,  why  didn't  you  send  for  me  ?  I 
would  have  cut  both  arms  off  for  less  money  than 
that.» 


FEARS    A    RELAPSE 

Doctor — «  Did  you  say  to  your  husband,  Mrs. 
Hendricks,  that,  if  agreeable  to  him,  I  would  send 
my  bill  for  services  rendered  during  his  recent 
severe  illness  ?  ''* 

Mrs.  Hendricks  —  *  Yes,  doctor;  and  he  thought 
you  had  better  wait  until  he  gets  a  little  stronger.** 

MEDICAL    CHANGES 

Citizen  (to  elderly  physician)  —  "  You  don't  bleed 
patients  as  often  as  you  did  fifteen  or  twenty  years 
ago  ?  ** 

Physician  (looking  over  package  of  unpaid  bills) 
—  "No,  we  don't  bleed  'em  at  all;  they  bleed  us!** 


Doctor  Jebb  was  once  paid  three  guineas  by  a 
rich  patient  from  whom  he  had  a  right  to  expect  five. 
He  dropped  them  on  the  floor,  when  a  servant 
picked  them  up  and  restored  them.  The  doctor, 
instead  of  walking  off,  continued  his  search  on  the 
carpet. 

"  Are  all  the  guineas  found  ?  **  asked  the  rich 
man. 

"  There  must  be  two  still  on  the  floor,  **  said  the 
doctor,  "  for  I  have  only  three.  ** 

The  hint  was  taken,  and  the  two  immediately 
handed  over. 

D.L.H. — 22 


338  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

*That  was  a  pretty  hard  doctor's  bill  I  had  to 
pay.» 

«  How  was  that  ?  » 

*  You  see  it  was  for  injuries  received  by  being 
thrown  from  a  horse  I  was  riding  by  the  doctor's 
advice.  ** 


A  MAN  who  had  been  very  ill  told  a  pious  friend, 
that  Dr.  Jones  had  brought  him  through.  **No,* 
said  his  friend,  **  Providence  brought  you  safely 
through  this  illness,  not  the  doctor."  **Well,  may- 
be he  did,  but  the  doctor  will  charge  for  it." 


An  Irishman,  looking  over  a  physician's  bill, 
said  he  had  no  objection  to  paying  for  the  medi- 
cine, but  his  visits  he  would  return. 


■^^'^^r^,^^ 


IN  THE  DOCTOR'S 
WAITING-ROOM 


Pkyiicians,  of  all  men,  are  most  happy. 

—  Francis  Quarles,  «  Hieroglyphics 
of  the  Life  of  Man.» 


A    CASE    OF    DOUBT 

Doctor — *  James,  did  that  lady  in  the  waiting- 
room  come  in  her  own  coach  or  a  trolley-car  ?  * 

Servant  —  "  Trolley-car,   sir !  ** 

Doctor — « Thanks!  I  couldn't  tell  from  her 
dress  whether  to  prescribe  three  months  at  Newport 
or  sulphur  and  molasses !  ** 


A    MARVELLOUS    CURE 

«RJTE  IS  a  wonderful  physician, '>  said  Mrs.  Ultra- 
inl  faith,  languidly.  «  When  I  first  went  to  him 
I  was  simply  prostrated  with  health.  From  that 
time  I  began  to  mend,  and  really  feel  now  that  I 
am  what  might  be  called  an  interesting  invalid." 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL    EVIDENCE 

Kate  —  "Louise  dear,  there's  crape  on  the  Van 
Brisket's  front  door.     Some  one  must  have  died!  *^ 

Louise — "Impossible!  I'm  positive  the  doctor 
hasn't  been  there  for  several  weeks.'* 


A  LADY  asked  a  physician  whether  snufiE  was  in- 
jurious to  the  brain.  "No,'*  said  he;  "for  anybody 
who  has  any  brains  never  takes  snuff.* 

(339) 


340  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

HER    DREAD 

Dr,  Howls — "But,  surely,  you  don't  fear  death, 
being  so  sure  of  heaven  ?  ** 

Mrs.  Beacon  Hill  (of  Boston)  —  "  But  just  think 
of  leaving  Boston  forever !  ** 


Mrs.  Jones-Brown  —  "  My  husband  has  no  con- 
fidence at  all  in  Dr.   Bolus.'* 

Mrs.  Sniith-Je7ikins  —  "How  absurd !  Why,  the 
doctor  has  an  enormous  practice." 

Mrs.  Jones-Brown  —  "  Yes ;  but  my  husband  says 
it  includes  very  few  people  who  are  really  sick." 


Mrs.  ally  —  "  You  are  a  terrible  man,  doctor. 
I  believe  you  think  women  have  no  brains  at  all." 

Dr.  Sharpeni  — "  You  are  mistaken,  madam,  I 
have  seen  them  at  autopsies." 


A    MEDICAL   VIEW 

"  Physicians,  as  a  rule,  are  bitterly  down  on  the 
hard  times." 

"  For  what  special  reason  ?  " 

"They  say  people  have  had  to  eat  such  plain 
food  that  they  are  too  healthy  to  be  interesting." 


Medicus  —  "I  wish  I  knew  how  to  get  even  with 
that  undertaker." 

She  —  "  Why  not  retire  from  practice  ?  " 


Pruyn  — "  Have  you  heard  that  horrible  story 
about  old  Stiffe  being  buried  alive  ?  " 

Dr.  Bolus  (hastily)  — "  Buried  alive  ?  Impossi- 
ble.    Why,  he  was  one  of  my  patients!  " 


IN  THE  DOCTOR'S  WAITING-ROOM  341 

Lady  Patient  (who  has  been  looking  over  the 
periodicals  on  doctor's  table)  — "  Do  you  take  Life 
now  ?  * 

Doctor  (embarrassed)  —  "  Well  —  I  —  I'm  still  in 
the  medical  profession !  * 


Visitor  —  "  Is  the  doctor  in  ?  " 
Servant — **  No,  sir.* 

Visitor  —  "  That's  a  pity,  as  I  had    come  to  pay 
my  account.'' 

Servant  —  ^^  Oh,  in  that  case  I  will  ask  again.  '* 


**  Do  YOU  think  raw  oysters  are  healthy  ?  '*  asked 
a  lady  of  her  physician. 

**Yes,''  he  replied,  ^^  I  never  knew  one  to  com- 
plain. " 


f 


AMONG  OFRSELVES 


Tken  the  Doctors!  O  to  hear 

The  Doctors!  O  to  watch  the  thirsty  plants 

Imbibing. 

—  Tennyson,  «The   Princess,'>  ii. 


THE  STRANGE  CASE  OF  DR.  BEGOSH 

>T  WAS  a  lovely  spring  morning  when 
Dr.  Begosh  arose  to  a  sitting  pos- 
ture in  his  bed,  feeling  as  if  the 
roof  of  his  head  was  floating  in  the 
air.  Dr.  Begosh  had  been  to  a  little 
reunion  of  twenty  or  thirty  class- 
mates of  '8 1,  and  there  had  been 
cheese  and  salmon  and  appoUinaries 
and  other    things. 

*  I  wonder  what  I  ate  ? "  mused  the  doctor,  hold- 
ing his  temples;  "must  have  been  rosin  or  alum; 
I'm  all  puckered  up;  and  what  a  strange  buzzing 
in  my'  head!  I  wonder  what's  the  matter  with 
me  ?     What  makes  my  hand   shake  so  ?  '* 

The  gentle  reader  may  wonder  why  a  doctor 
should  not  know  his  own  ailments;  but  the  gentle 
reader  does  not  know  a  doctor  in  private  life. 

Doctor  Begosh  arose  and  drank  a  quart  of 
water,  and  then  drew  on  his  garments  with  some 
difficulty.  When  he  came  to  his  hat,  he  found  to 
his  dismay  that  it  was  much  too  small  for  his  head, 
and  only  a  careful  inspection  convinced  him  that 
it  was  his  own. 

*I  wonder,*^  he    repeated    again,  **what    is   the 
matter   with   me  ?    I  believe    I'll   see    Doctor   Mc- 
Swat. » 
(343) 


AMONG  OURSELVES  343 

Doctor  Begosh  had  been  in  practice  about  eight- 
een years,  but  was  not  troubled  with  patients, 
which  did  not  trouble  him,  as  he  was  in  receipt  of 
a  large  income  from  a  deluded  aunt. 

In  five  minutes  the  doctor  had  felt  his  way  to 
the  street,  and  almost  the  first  man  he  met  was 
Doctor  Blupil. 

"Ah,  Begosh,"  said  Blupil,  affably,  *  howdy, 
howdy  ?  Not  looking  well ;  bilious,  my  boy,  bilious — 
take  blue  mass  and  follow  up  with  castor-oil.  Ta-ta * 

<*  I  thought  I  was  bilious,*  said  Begosh,  gloom- 
ily.     "I've     such    a    dull    feeling Ah,     Doctor 

Sawem!     I   was   on  my   way   to   see   you.     I    have 
such  a  queer  feeling  in  my  head.* 

"  Say  no  more,  *  said  Sawem,  pleasantly ;  "  I  can 
see  it  in  your  eyes.  Incipient  anuerism  of  the 
heart.  Must  take  care  of  yourself;  avoid  excite- 
ment, and  take  this  three  times  a  day.* 

He  dashed  off  a  prescription  and  walked  away, 
leaving  Begosh  all  in  a  tremble. 

"I  never  noticed  it  before,  but  now,*  said  he 
to  himself,  "  I  believe  I  do  perceive  a  weakness  in 
the  cardiac  region.  Ah!  there's  Megrim;  he's  a 
specialist  in  heart  and  lungs.* 

Doctor  Megrim  drew  his  friend  in  a  convenient 
doorway  and  tapped  him  around  a  bit. 

"Rather  peculiar  symptoms,*  he  said  gravely. 

«I  understand,*  said  Doctor  Begosh.  "My 
heart * 

"Heart  be  — blowed,*  said  Doctor  Megrim. 
"  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  your  heart ;  but 
I  think  I  detect — yes,  I  am  certain  there  are 
symptoms  of  pulmonary  tuberculosis.  Haven't  time 
now  to  go  into  extended  diagnosis  —  call  around 
this  evening.* 

Doctor  Begosh  was  so  overcome  that  it  was  all 
he  could  do  to  walk  to  McSwat's  office.  He  found 
that  learned  man  in  deep  discussion  with  Doctor 
Cardiac,  from  Boston. 


344 


THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


«Begosh,  happy  to  see  you  —  Cardiac  —  Begosh. 
What !  not  sick  ?  Well,  well !  Let  me  see  your 
tongue.  Pulse.  Hum  —  haw!  Well,  really,  it  looks 
—  I  don't  say  it  is  —  but  it  looks  like  cirrhosis.*^ 

«  What !  "  gasped  poor  Begosh. 

"Very  much  like  cirrhosis,'*  said  McSwat,  com- 
placently.    "  What  is  your  opinion    Cardiac  ?  ** 

*  You're  right,**  said  Cardiac.  **  But,  don't  you 
think  "  —  walks  twice  around  Begosh  —  **  don't  you 
think  there  are  symptoms  of  Bright's  disease  ?  ** 

<*Well  —  hum  —  haw  —  yes,**  said  McSwat,  cour- 
teously agreeing  in  his  turn.  *^  If  I  were  you  Be- 
gosh   ** 

But  Begosh  had  seized  his  hat  and  fled. 

*  Blast  it  all!**  he  exclaimed,  resentfully;  "I 
can't  have  had  all  those  fatal  diseases  and  not  know 
anything  about  it  until  to-day.  Yet,  I  can't  deny 
that  I  do  feel  very  queer  all  over ** 

<<  Hello,  Begosh !  **  cried  a  young  man,  saluting 
him  with  a  heavy,  hearty  slap  on  the  back.  "  Well, 
you  did  yourself  proud  at  the  feed  last  night.  By 
jove,  how  eloquent  you  were  after  that  second 
bowl  of  punch!  ** 

"Don't!**  said  Begosh  appealingly.  "It  makes 
me  'shudder  to  talk  of  festivities.  If  you  knew 
what  was  the  matter  with  me,  Carver,  you'd ** 

"I  do  know,**  replied  Doctor  Carver,  promptly. 
"  I've  been  there  lots  of  times.  ** 

"  Eh  ?  **  said  Begosh.  "  Aneurism,  cirrhosis, 
Bright's  disease ** 

"  What!  **  roared  Carver.  "  Why,  old  man,  you've 
simply  been  having  a  jag  on  you,  and  what  you 
want  is  a  cocktail,  or  gin-fizz.     What  shall  it  be  ?  ** 

Thirty  minutes  later,  Doctors  Begosh  and  Carver 
were  manipulating  the  ivories  on  a  green  cloth, 
and  Begosh  was  explaining  that  if  the  history  of 
his  case  was  published  it  would  ruin  the  profession. 

But  it  won't. 


AMONG  OURSELVES 


345 


HERBERT  L.   S.   MONTAGUE  SWELL,  M.D. 

Fashionable  Physician  (office  hours  from  9  to 
10:30  A.  M.) — '^  Buttons,  is  the  new  coachman  be- 
low ? » 

Buttons  —  <*  Yes,  sir.  ** 

Physician —  «  Tell  him  to  have  the  coup6  before 
the  door  at  10:30.  Walk  the  horses  up  and  down 
the  block,  stopping  occasionally  before  the  door  till 
I  come  out.'* 

Buttons —  ^*  Yes,  sir.  ** 

Physician  —  ^^  Who  are  outside  ?  * 

Buttons  —  "Two  men,  a  woman,  and  a  lady, 
sir!     Here's  her  cardP' 

Physician  —  "  Show  her  in !  " 

Physician  (rising)  —  *  My  dear  Mrs.  Hysteria,  I 
should  be  delighted  to  see  you  this  morning,  if  I 
did  not  fear  that  your  call  means  a  return  of  your 
old  enemy.  Yes  ?  I  thought  so,  and  I  may  say 
that  I  have  expected  it !  I  noticed  at  the  Meredith 
dinner,  last  week,  how  very  fragile  you  were  look- 
ing. You  are  not  the  woman,  physically,  to  be  the 
society  leader  that  you  are.  Your  temperament  is 
too  sensitive,  your  nervous  system  too  delicately 
organized  to  stand  the  strain.  Other  women  do 
it  ?  Of  course  they  do,  my  dear  madam,  but  other 
women  are  not  you!  We  do  not  expect  the  same 
wear  from  a  delicate  piece  of  Sevres  porcelain  that 
we  do  from  Ohio  delf.  You  must  take  care  of 
yourself!  I've  written  out  a  prescription,  a  light 
tonic,  which  I  want  you  to  take  every  day,  at 
eleven  and  three,  in  a  glass  of  old  Port,  Don't 
come  out  in  such  inclement  weather  again!  I  will 
stop  to-morrow  as  I  drive  by,  and  next  week,  if  you 
are  not  stronger,  I  shall  send  you  to  Hollywood  or 
Old  Point.  Good  morning;  remember  to  take  care 
of  yourself!  * 


346  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

Physician  —  *  Next  card,  Buttons!  Ah,  yes;  show 
the  young  man  in!  (Remains  seated.)  Ah,  from  the 
Daily  Bulletin,  to  inquire  after  Mr.  Trillion  ?  Yes? 
Just  sit  down  a  moment,  please,  and  I'll  write  you 
what  I  wish  said.  A  physician  is  quite  apt  to  be 
misquoted.  (Writes  a  few  moments.)  There  — 
this  is  all  that  is  necessary.  (Reads.)  <A  reporter 
of  the  Daily  Bulletin  visited  Dr.  Swell  this  morn- 
ing, to  obtain  the  latest  and  most  authentic  report 
of  the  Hon,  A.  B.  C.  Trillion's  condition.  The 
eminent  physician  was   found   at  his    home,  No.  3 

"West  th  Street,  taking    a   brief    rest    after    his 

long  vigil,  nearly  the  whole  of  the  preceding  night 
having  been  passed  at  the  bedside  of  his  dis- 
tinguished patient.  He  left  him  resting  easy,  pulse 
and  respiration  nearly  normal,  the  remedies  used 
during  the  night  having  produced  the  expected  ben- 
eficial result.  Dr.  Swell  does  not  deny  that  the  sit- 
uation is  extremely  critical,  and  one  calling  for  the 
most  assiduous  skill,  but  he  is  of  the  opinion  that 
unless  some  serious  complications  develop,  Mr. 
Trillion's  malady  will  be  controlled  by  medical 
science.  *  That  gives  a  correct  idea  of  the  situation. 
See  that  it  goes  in  as  written.     Good  morning !  " 

Physician  (remains  seated)  — "  Well,  my  good 
woman  what  is  it?  H'm  yes;  yours  is  a  hospital 
dispensary  case.  I  am  a  specialist,  not  a  general 
practitioner,  and  I  really  can  do   nothing    for    you. 

Go    to    450  West  th  Street,   and    you    can    get 

some  remedies  for  your  child.     Good  morning !  '* 

Physician  (taking  another  card  from  Buttons)  — 
"  Show  the  lady  in  at  once !  (Rises  and  crosses 
room  to  meet  her.)  My  dear  Miss  Budrose,  this 
is  indeed  a  pleasure !  Take  this  chair  —  no,  not 
that  one;  this  low  one  near  the  fire.  How  very 
nice  of  you  to  pay  me  this  morning  call!  Don't 
tell    me    you    have    come    professionally;    you    are 


AMONG  OURSELVES  347 

quite  too  blooming  for  that!  No,  indeed  1  I 
thought  not.  If  ever  you  are  ill,  don't  send  for 
me!  I  really  couldn't  come  you  know!  The  re- 
sponsibility would  be  too  great.  I  should  have  all 
New  York  clubdom  besieging  my  doors!  What's 
that  ?  —  stop  my  nonsense  and  listen  to  you  seri- 
ously ?  Why,  my  dear  Miss  Violet,  of  course  I 
will ;  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Oh,  what  a  noble 
scheme!  And  you  young  ladies  are  really  under- 
taking, quite  by  yourselves,  to  establish  a  fund  to 
erect  a  cupola  over  the  Heel  and  Toe  Hospital  ? 
Indeed,  you  must  let  me  put  my  name  down  for 
fifty  dollars,  at  least !  Must  you  go  so  soon  ?  My 
regards  to  dear  Mrs.  Budrose!  Is  her  neuralgia 
less  severe  ?  No  ?  I  had  better  stop  a  moment  as 
I  pass  to-day!  Coming  to  your  ball  to-morrow 
night  ?  Of  course  I  am ;  and  beware  how  you  fill 
up  your  card  before  I  see  it!  Good  morning  Miss 
Violet;  so  charmed  to  see  you!     Good  morning.^* 

Physician  (to  next  visitor). —  **Why  Goldspoon, 
my  dear  fellow,  how  are  you  ?  Not  very  well  ? 
Oh,  I  guess  not;  a  little  overworked,  that's  all! 
You'll  have  to  put  on  the  brakes  for  a  while!  It's 
all  very  well  to  be  a  brilliant  young  lawyer;  but 
it's  all  very  ill  to  be  a  brilliant  young  lawyer  at 
the  expense  of  your  health.  Think  you  smoke  too 
much  ?  How  many  ?  Fifteen  cigars  a  day,  with 
cigarettes  between  ?  Well,  you  might  cut  down  that 
allowance  somewhat;  but  what  you  really  need  is 
less  brain  toil !  It  would  be  a  good  thing  to  take 
a  run  over  to  the  Riviera,  or  South.  I  shall  be 
near  your  father's  house,  to-day,  and  I'll  drop  in 
and  see  him  a  few  minutes.  Between  us,  I  guess 
we  can  patch  you  up.     Good  morning!'* 

Physician  —  ^* Eleven  o'clock!  I  must  be  off! 
Buttons,  my  overcoat  and  case  of  instruments!  See 
if  Michael   is   at  the   curb!     Say  to   any  who  calls 


348  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 

to-day  that  I  am  detained  at  the  Trillion  resi- 
dence! (Darts  out  in  great  haste.)  Drive  very  rap- 
idly, Michael,  to  Fifth  Avenue.  >> 

(Jumps  into  coupd,  and  the  horses  clatter  down 
the  block  with  such  a  noise  and  dash  that  half  the 
neighbors  are   brought   to   their   windows  —  desired 

effect.) 

—  Philip  H.     Welch. 


A    RATHER    SMALL    PRACTICE 

Young  Doctor  —  "  Yes,  I  expect  it  will  go  pretty 
slow  when  I  first  open  an  office  until  I  get  started 
a  little. » 

Old  Doctor  —  "  Well,  you  bet  it  will.  Why,  when 
I  first  hung  out  my  shingle  I  sat  in  my  office  for 
three  months,  and  only  had  one  case." 

Young  Doctor  —  **  Whew !  That  was  pretty  tough 
wasn't  it  ?  Only  one  case ;  and  what  was  that  a 
case  of  ?  " 

Old  Doctor  —  "A  case  of  instruments. ® 


A    DESPERATE    CASE 

Old  Practitioner  (to  young  M.  D.)  —  *'  I  hear  that 
you  have  been  called  to  attend  Mr.  B.,  who  is  so 
desperately  ill." 

Young  M.  D.  (proudly)  —  <*  Yes,  that's  a  fact ; 
and  I  think  I'll  pull  him  through." 

Old  M.  /?.—  «  Another  proof  of  the  truth  of  the 
adage :  *  Desperate  diseases  require  desperate  rem- 
edies. * " 


Dr.  Squylles — "  Why  don't  you   order  that  Mrs. 
Fayling  to  go  to   California  ?     She   could  afford   to 


go." 


Dr.  Py lies— ^'- Yes;   but  I   couldn't   afford  to  let 
her  go." 


AMONG  OURSELVES  349 


HAPPY    DISPATCH 

First  Eminent  Physician  —  "I    have    always    re- 
membered my  first  patient." 

Second  Ditto  —  <^  I  trust  he  remembered  you. " 
First  E.  P. —  ^^He  would  have  done  so,  no  doubt, 
but  he  hadn't  time  to  make  a  will." 


NO    REASON    AT    ALL 

THE  doctors  were  having  one  of  their  pleasant 
little  dinners,  wherein  they  strive  to  forget 
the  cares  of  their  profession.  A  certain  mineral 
water  falling  under  discussion,  one  of  the  sons  of 
^sculapius  observed  that  for  bon  vivant  it  was  the 
best  medicine  he  knew  of. 

*^  But, "  said  his  neighbor,   *  why   should   a    good 
liver  be  dosed  ? " 


Old  Doctor  —  ^^  No,  sir.     I  never   have  a  patient 

die  on  my  hands — never." 

Young  Doctor — "How  do  you  manage  it?" 
Old  Doctor  —  *  When   I  find   a  man    is  going  to 

die  I  get  him  to  call  a  specialist." 


*/f^ENTLEMANs,"  Said  the  chairman  of  the  district 
^^^  council,  a  great  sanitary  authority,  who  had 
a  reputation  for  eloquence  both  in  Welsh  and 
English,  "  It  shall  be  quite  plain  to  you  that  the 
death-rate  haf  been  very  busy  among  us.  If  it 
was  not  for  that  and  the  statistics  that  play  havoc 
with  the  vitals,  perhaps  we  should  feel  pretty 
well.  But  I  must  tell  you  that  during  the  past 
year  people  haf  been  dying  throughout  the  dis- 
trict, as  never  died  before  in  any  year  whateffer. 
Well,"  cheerfully,  «we  must  take  care  that  they 
neffer  shall  died  so  much  again." 


35©  THE  DOCTOR'S  LEISURE  HOUR 


THE    WAY    HE    LOST   THEM 

*I  HAVE  never  yet  lost  a  patient,  ^^  said  young 
Dr.   Doce,   proudly. 

*I  can't  say  that  much,"  replied  Dr,  Paresis. 
"  I  often  have  a  patient  get  well.  ** 


AN  IMPORTANT   DISTINCTION 

Old  Doctor — **  If  you  can  manage  it,  get  your 
name  in  the  papers.** 

Young  Doctor — ^*  But  etiquette  forbids  a  physi- 
cian to  advertise.** 

Old  Doctor — "Yes;  but  not  to  be  advertised." 


EN  A  general  way  medical  folk  are  not  apt  to  be 
jocose.  Is  it  because  daily  duty  compels  them 
to  look  upon  sickness  and  suffering  ?  Now  and 
then,  however,  some  reckless  practitioner,  impa- 
tient of  pulse-feeling,  demands  a  guffaw  from  his 
brethren,  and  has  sufi&cient  astuteness  to  know  that 
the  pleasantest  and  easiest  way  of  obtaining  it  is 
to  have  a  little  supper.  On  such  occasions  the 
medicos  are  not  more  ready  to  tap  the  jocular  vein 
than  they  are  to  tap  the  jugulnv. 

At  one  time,  the  members  of  the  New  York 
Medical  Club  were  summoned  to  attend  a  regular 
meeting  at  the  residence  of  Doctor  Paine,  in  West 
Fourteenth  Street,  and  the  notice  ran  in  the  fol- 
lowing classic  style: 

"  SCIENS,    SOCIALITF,     SOBRIETE.  * 

Doctores !  Ducum  nex  mundi  nitu  Panes:  triti- 
cunt  at  ait.  Expecto  meta  fumen  tu  te  &  eta  beta 
pi^  Super  at  TEN  to  tino,  Dux,  hamor  clam  pati, 
sum  parates,  homine,  ices,  Jam,  etc.     Sideror  Hoc 

*  Festo  Resonan  Floas  Sole.  '* 
Nov.  Ebor.  Sep.  20,  1867. 


AMONG  OURSELVES  35 1 

,N  THE  death  of  a  celebrated  French  journalist 
the  following  story  was  related  of  him. 

He  was  once  very  sick  and  the  visiting  physi- 
cian gave  him  up  as  lost.  ^^  I  cannot  do  anything 
for  you,^^  he  said,   "you  must  die." 

Another  doctor  was,  however,  called  in,  who 
succeeded  in  curing  him. 

The  first  time  the  convalescent  took  a  stroll  he 
met  his  first  doctor,  who,  greatly  surprised,  said  he 
thought  him  no  more  among  the  living. 

"Well,  you  see,"  said  the  patient,  "when  you 
left,  Dr.  V.  was  called  in  and  he  succeeded  in 
building  me  up  again." 

"  Oh !  well !  well !  A  man  whom  I  thought  my 
friend!     Really  it  was  not  at  all  nice  of  him." 


W-. 


had  a  valuable  cow,  which  became 

sick  and  seemed  likely  to  die.  After  inquiry 
of  his  servants  he  sent  for  Jemmy  Lafferty,  who, 
they  said,  "could  cure  any  cow  in  the  wurruld.* 
The  cow  doctor  accordingly  came,  drenched  and 
physicked  the  animal  for  four  or  five  days,  in  the 
lapse  of  which  time  he  waited  on  the  doctor  and 
pronounced  her  cured. 

The  doctor,  greatly  delighted,  put  his  hand  to 
his  pocketbook.  "Well,  Lafferty,  what  do  I  owe 
you  ? " 

"  Owe  me !  "  replied  Jemmy,  drawing  himself  up 
with  great  dignity,  "  sorra  the  penny!  We  doctors 
never  take  money  of  one  another." 


"Tell  me,  doctor,"  asked  the  ambitious  young 
disciple  of  Galen,  eagerly,  "  what  was  the  most 
dangerous  case  you  ever  had?"  "In  confidence, 
now  that  I  am  about  to  retire  from  practice,"  an- 
swered the  veteran  physician,  frankly,  "  I  will  con- 
fess that  it  was  my  medicine  case." 


35  a  THE   DOCTOR'S  LEISURE   HOUR 

A   LITTLE   OF    BOTH 

A  FAMOUS  physician,  at  a  dinner  party,  who 
thought  he  had  a  fine  voice,  after  singing  a  song, 
remarked  that  when  he  was  young  he  was  quite 
undecided  whether  to  choose  medicine  or  music  as 
a  profession. 

A  friend  repHed,  promptly,  "  Frank,  your  voice 
is  physic." 

PROFESSIONAL   AMENITIES 

Dr.  Kilsome — "A  man  must  be  tired  of  life 
when  he  calls  you  in.* 

Dr.  Curenone — **  Well,  as  soon  as  an  insurance 
company  find  out  that  you  are  treating  one  of 
their  clients  they  send  an  agent  to  cancel  the  pol- 
icy. ** 

«^?r|^RUTH  compels  me  to  state,**  said  the  presiding 
li  officer  of  a  medical  congress,  "  that  upon 
that  list  of  physicians  present  just  read  there  is 
one  that  is  no  gentleman.**  A  stir  of  surprise 
passed  over  the  assemblage  at  this,  and  one  man, 
upon  whose  foot,  as  the  presiding  officer  said  aft- 
erward, the  shoe  seemed  to  be  a  perfect  fit,  half 
rose  from  his  seat;  but  in  another  moment  a  wo- 
man's voice  from  the  back  part  of  the  hall  made 
itself  heard.  **  I  quite  ag^ee  with  Dr.  Blank,  **  said 
the  voice,  "  for  I  am  that  physician.  In  my  turn 
I  must   say,  however,  that   Dr.   Blank  is  no   lady.** 


"  I  AM  going  to  write  a  work  on  Popular  Igno- 
rance,** said  a  young  physician. 

^*  I  am  glad  of  it,**  said  a  doctor,  "for  I  know 
no  one  more  competent  for  the  task.** 


Shall  I  go  on  ?    Or  have  I  said  enough  ? 

—  Milton. 


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Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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